


Downfall

by Mendeia



Series: Fate Is A Gift [20]
Category: Mighty Max
Genre: Ancient History, Angst and Drama, Gen, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: "The past is never dead. It's not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity." – William FaulknerVirgil's past, and the history of Lemuria, have long remained shrouded in mystery (and ominous references). When Max begins dreaming of a shadowy figure steeped in tragedy of their own, he finds himself caught between the distant events that caused Lemuria's destruction and Virgil's present struggle with his own destiny.
Series: Fate Is A Gift [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/34784
Comments: 24
Kudos: 5





	1. Knocking Now Upon Your Door

It all started innocently enough with his dreams.

In fact, it began so innocently, Max could honestly not have said that anything had begun in the first place. His life was hectic and weird already, battling aliens and radioactive anteaters every other week, so he'd been dreaming up strange things for years. From the first day he'd been named the Cap-Bearer, Max had dreamed everything from prophetic warnings about Skullmaster to hilariously silly stuff involving Norman and modern dance. He didn't typically take much notice of his dreams when they weren't threatening or came without the familiar sense of destined doom.

So he really had no idea how long he'd been dreaming of a pair of grey eyes.

It wasn't until Bea caught him doodling in the margins of his notebook the last week of school that he even thought about it. She started teasing him about having a secret crush, but Max could honestly tell her he'd never met anybody with eyes like that.

(Well, maybe he had. Max didn't really check the stats on every villain and monster of the week. It was statistically possible that he'd met some with grey eyes — he was just too busy thwarting their evil plans and saving the world to notice.)

But the next morning, as he was putting his homework into his backpack, he spotted the notebook and realized that he had been dreaming about grey eyes.

However, Norman started bellowing through the house that Max was going to be late for school and then his mom started bellowing at Norman to stop bellowing, and then Virgil was bellowing at them both for their lack of decorum, and Max laughed and made his way downstairs, all thoughts of dreams pushed from his head.

And if he realized he'd dreamed of grey eyes again after that, he forgot again just as quickly.

-==OOO==-

"All right, that's it!" Max pushed himself up off the stone floor where he'd slid awkwardly after barely dodging a blast of fire. "I've _had it_ with all this death-by-Ancient-Egypt stuff. Where's the evil plot to take over the world through burger joints?"

"Please do not give the evil genius any more ideas, Mighty One," Virgil said, sighing. He glanced at Norman, who was gamely holding a bronze shield and turning aside yet another jet of flame. "Now, we must neutralize this foe or he will certainly douse the world in fire, torment, and scorpions."

"Yeah, Virg, 'cause of those, scorpions are the worst."

But Virgil was too busy crowding closer to Max to avoid the small plague of those exact scorpions crawling in their direction who seemed particularly fond of his robes.

Max shook his head and straightened his Cap. "Okay. Time to get my Chosen One on!"

He charged at the crowd of insects, stamping them and bouncing away before he could be stung in return. Dodging over to Norman, he glanced around the pilfered shield at the half-man, half...something not man and not scorpion — and not spider because Norman was okay — and started looking for their answer.

_There has to be some way to…_

_The symbols._

"Ha!" Max grinned as his eyes fell on a tablet lying upon the table behind all the flame-throwing action. "Gotcha. Normie, I need a boost!"

"You got it, Mighty One!" Norman shifted the shield to one hand and held out the other like a platform. Max crouched, then jumped onto Norman's hand, pushing off with all his force as Norman threw him upwards.

Max flew through the air straight and true, well clear of the mishmash monster, and caught himself on one of the protruding statues that ringed the Ancient Temple of Whoever Max Was Going To Have To Beat Today. The monster turned to chase him, but Norman charged, yelling. The half-something-icky was forced to focus upon the Guardian and not the Cap-Bearer.

"Please hurry, Mighty One!"

Max looked up to see Virgil huddled under another statue, the scorpions closing in.

"I got this, Virg!" He shimmied down to the ground and ran to the table which was covered with items and ingredients that would not have been out of place in Skullmaster's kitchen. Sitting on one corner of the table, mostly concealed by half of a dead baby crocodile, was the tablet he'd spotted from across the room. It didn't really look any different from any other tablet or set of ominous carvings scattered across the temple, but Max knew it was different nonetheless.

"Hey, Buggy!" he yelled, snatching it up. "Don't you know what we do to insects who try to take over the world?"

The half-something — maybe he was a spiny ant of some kind? — monster turned and shrieked, lunging towards Max with the crazed panic common to all bad guys whose fatal flaw had been exposed. Max grinned and slammed the tablet down into the corner of the table, shattering it.

The monster let out an inhuman screech.

Then, because he _knew_ that particular sound of imminent and violent destruction, Max took shelter behind the legs of a nearby statue just before the monster exploded and covered the whole room with something black and putrid.

A moment later, Virgil made a distressed sound. "I could still use some help over here!"

Max peeked out from behind the statue. Norman was somehow untouched by the splattered ichor that was wildly disproportionate to the bad guy, but Virgil was coated in the goop. And the tips of his crown feathers were a little bit on fire.

Max exchanged a grin with Norman before the pair of them made their way over to Virgil.

"Mom's gonna have to buy you a bird bath, you know," Max told him while he pinched out the tiny flames on the Lemurian's head..

Virgil snorted. "Very amusing, Mighty One."

"I thought it was," Norman put in.

"That was quite clever of you, though, to destroy the anchor tablet that kept that being bound to this world. How did you think of it?" Virgil tried to look prim and, with black stuff thicker than ink all over him, mostly failed.

Max shrugged. "Just a guess."

For a moment, a passing instant, he thought one of the nearby statue's eyes turned grey, but they were back to normal before he could even blink.

Then Virgil slipped and flopped into a puddle, drenching himself even more thoroughly, and Max laughed and forgot that anything seemed strange.

-==OOO==-

Virgil sighed. Then he considered crumpling up the offending scroll like a child.

"Everything okay?" Norman asked.

With the Mighty One's mother away on another expedition and the Mighty One himself at summer diving practice (and having given strict instructions for Norman not to follow him because looming over him at the pool just looked weird and other parents were getting concerned), Virgil had taken the opportunity to carry an armful of his scrolls down from his room to the large front study where the light was better. But even the warmth of sunlight and the summer breeze did not shake the chill from his feathers.

Virgil closed the scroll carefully before he looked up.

"You know that I have had no reliable means to discern danger as I did once before, correct?"

"Sure." Norman shrugged. "The Mighty One reset time, and after that solstice came and went, the wall of destiny was useless." He felt not a little glee about that — that wall had portended his death and he had cheated it. Well, the Mighty One had cheated it on his behalf, anyway.

"Yes. And since then it has required a combination of my unmatched intellect, my ability to predict the hidden meanings of countless ancient Lemurian prophecies, and, at times, social media alerts to know when the world is in peril." Virgil shook his head. "The problem of this method is that the prophecies left by the Elders of Lemuria are incomplete, to say nothing of difficult to comprehend. As with all prophecies, they make far more sense in hindsight than in advance."

Norman raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"There is something troubling me about one of these scrolls. It speaks of things that happened long ago, and it speaks of their return to the world. But there is no definitive timeframe. Nothing useful to plot when such events might take place."

"What kind of events?" Norman asked.

"A resurgence of ancient Lemuria."

Norman blinked. Virgil was avoiding his eyes. "Uh, isn't that a good thing? Your people were the ones who set this all in motion in the first place."

"No." Virgil paused, let out a breath. "No, they _foretold_ all that has come to pass; they did not engineer it. Even the Eldest of Lemuria was as bound by Destiny as the rest of us."

"So what's the problem? They were still your people. They're on our side. Right?"

"Yes, they were mine and they would be, as you say 'on our side' now. But remember that Skullmaster was of Lemuria, too, and he was not alone when he destroyed us." Virgil stared vaguely in the direction of the table, nowhere near Norman's face. "Lemuria is gone, never to rise again. What sort of 'resurgence' might be ahead of us, I cannot imagine."

Norman felt for his friend, but, out of respect, did not move to comfort him. "Whatever it is," he said gently, "we will face it with you." He thought about when he had been locked in combat against Spike to avenge his father, and how much the support of the Mighty One and Virgil had helped him defeat the old enemy. "The Mighty One will see you through."

Virgil looked up and for an instant Norman could see fear in his eyes. "Forgive me, Norman, but I dearly hope you are wrong."

Without another word, Virgil turned and went upstairs, shutting his door behind him.

-==OOO==-

In the endless dark, a pair of grey eyes were opening.

-==OOO==-

Max was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, but it wasn't the sort of dream he could control.

"It's cool, though," he said to himself. "At least it isn't gross like that thing with the slime pit."

The figure hunched beside him nudged him with a sharp elbow. "Shh!"

They were somewhere shadowed, maybe in a box or behind a cabinet; from inside, it was hard for Max to tell. But there were cracks in the slats of wood before him, and if he pressed close, he could see into the room beyond. The walls were stone and there were thick hides and woven hangings covering the walls. A fire crackled nearby.

"The child is dangerous," came a man's voice from somewhere Max couldn't see.

"How can any child, even one so powerful, be dangerous?" asked another, lighter voice.

"There is an order to things. Destiny cannot be challenged, and that which is Fated must not be prevented. The child strains against such laws, and that insolence is more dangerous than any power."

"What will you do?"

"Whatever is necessary. The world must go on as foretold. There is no other way. And if the child cannot be made to see that, I will take measures."

Max shivered at the threat. Then he heard a tiny sound from the lumpy shape of a person beside him.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked, turning. "You're who they're talking about."

It was too dark to see through the cloak or blanket or whatever it was that hooded the downturned head beside him, but Max could make out a nod regardless.

"Are they going to hurt you?"

The answer that came was whispered from somewhere far away. "Yes. And I will not let them hurt you in return."

"Me?" Max was startled and jumped, bumping his head on whatever was above him. "Ow!" He rubbed it, then frowned. "I thought you couldn't feel pain in dreams."

"This is no dream," the voice whispered. "It is a memory. And a promise."

The world around Max faded to grey and the dream faded with it.

-==OOO==-

Max had never particularly cared for language classes before, but when the new school year started in September, he loaded his schedule with as many as the teachers would let him take.

"It's cheating!" Bea told him. "You can speak any language you want!"

"Yeah, but I can't really control it," he'd said, "and this is good practice. Besides, they're as much about history and culture as nouns and verbs, and I definitely need to know that stuff."

He was not wrong about that — for every minute his classmates spent struggling to comprehend tenses and memorize irregular constructions, he spent thinking about the information hidden in the language exercises. They were starting on poetry in Spanish and on literature in French, and both gave him a different kind of insight. Maybe he'd never need Latin American poetry to protect the world, but anything he could learn that would help him understand someone different from himself might be the thing that divided defeating an enemy from saving someone in the wrong.

But because he had such an advantage over his classmates in languages, he also had a lot of free time after completing tests and classroom assignments with which to think.

He was staring idly at the blackboard while everyone around him sweated through a French exercise that first week in class when his eyes were drawn to one of the faded posters up beside the window. Some were from French movies or plays, and there were at least three different artful recreations of the Eiffel Tower spread through the room, but this one was different. It was a page from an illuminated manuscript blown up huge with old illustrations partially washed out in the background.

It reminded Max a tiny bit of the Lemurian Arcana, at least as much as any illuminated manuscript could draw near to the ancient and lost powers of the Lemurians, and with a start he realized that he could read it.

_Well, obviously. It's a language, so thanks to this new and exciting weirdness of being me, of course I can read it._

_But it feels familiar._

_I wonder why._

He caught the name Merlin and realized it must be a retelling of one of the old Arthurian legends. But after reading a few lines farther, he felt himself seize up with annoyance from out of nowhere. He was near-furious, frustrated, and ready to throw something — and had no idea why.

Just as quickly, the feeling vanished.

_Did I just have a mood swing? Like...one of those things they talked about in health class that comes with puberty?_

_Ew._

_I'm just...not gonna mention that to anybody._

And by the time the teacher was collecting the exercises and beginning the rest of the lesson for the day, Max was thinking about other things and his flash of unexpected emotion was forgotten.

-==OOO==-

Virgil pushed open the door from the bedroom that had become his own. He didn't realize until he saw the darkened hallway and felt the stillness around him that everyone had already gone to bed. Virgil paused and mentally calculated the probabilities, concluding that Norman was likely not watching over the Mighty One tonight. Therefore, he was somewhat less concerned about startling the twitchy, protective Guardian as he made his way along the hall.

He hadn't intended to shut himself in his room all night again. And he knew that he owed the Mighty One both an apology and an explanation. For the better part of a week, Virgil had been absent and distracted as he worked through the problem of the scrolls. Why did the prophecies which were most important have to be those with the least clear interpretation? Simple, comparatively small threats were spelled out beautifully, complete with geographical locations which were easy to pinpoint and times they were applicable explained in detail. But that which was the most critical and the most worrying remained stubbornly opaque.

As he approached the Mighty One's door, Virgil felt a prickle run over his skin, his feathers fluffing up instinctively.

A moment later, the Mighty One himself emerged from his room wearing his pajamas and socks.

"Mighty One?"

But Max did not turn, instead moving away from Virgil and heading down the stairs. Virgil darted after him.

"Mighty One, are you all right?"

Max's breath hissed and there might have been a word in it, but it was too indistinct for Virgil to comprehend. At the bottom of the grand staircase, Max moved haltingly to the front door, eventually unlocking it and pushing it open.

"Mighty One!" Virgil raised his voice deliberately. "You are sleep-walking. You must wake at once!"

Max stepped onto the front porch and continued haltingly down the steps until he stood on the front walk, bathed in the light of a half-moon.

"Mighty One!"

Virgil scrambled after him, hearing a nearby rustling that meant Norman was awake and on his way.

Virgil managed to get around in front of Max, who had stopped to stare up into the sky. He seized one of the boy's hands with his own, surprised at how warm it was. Though the late summer night was mild, Max wore only a thin t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"Virgil, what's happening?" Norman burst into view, sword out and ready for anything.

"The Mighty One appears to be sleepwalking," Virgil said. He began tugging on the boy's hand, shaking him. "Mighty One, please. Awaken."

Max's head tipped down, away from the sky, and there was something in the washed-out color of his wide open eyes that made Virgil shiver. In the dim light cast only by the moon and stars and street lamps, Max's blue eyes were pale and colorless.

Norman sheathed his sword and approached, one hand out as though trying not to frighten a bird. "Mighty One?"

A violent tremor went through Max's body and his knees wobbled.

Virgil threw his arms around the boy and caught him, holding him up as Norman closed the last few feet between them to lend his own support. "Mighty One! Are you with us again?"

Max drew in a sharp breath, as though startled, and shook his head. "Virg? Normie? What's going on?"

Norman steadied Max by the shoulder and Virgil held on until they could tell he was really awake and standing on his own.

"You were sleepwalking," Virgil said, grateful that the boy's eyes looked more normal at last. "Whatever you were dreaming, it must have been a deep dream indeed."

"I don't really remember," Max said. He set a hand on his Cap, then patted Norman's arm. "Thanks for the backup, guys."

"No problem." Norman released him, but stayed close.

Virgil considered his boy for a moment, but saw nothing amiss. "Well, if it had been a prophetic dream, you would recall it now that you are awake. So perhaps it is nothing more than the normal changes to one's sleep cycle while undergoing a growth spurt."

Max smiled. "I could do with getting a little taller. That would be okay with me."

"However," Virgil said, "I don't like the idea of you sleepwalking unguarded. You could end up in serious danger."

"We're not handcuffing me to the bed, guys," Max said very firmly.

"No, not at all. However, I believe that Norman and I will simply keep a closer eye on you until we are certain this phase of your development has passed."

Max gave an enormous yawn. "Sounds good. So, does that mean I can go back to bed?"

"Sure thing," Norman said. And he gave Virgil a slight nod to show that he would spend his night watching over their boy to prevent any further midnight wanderings.

But as they turned back to the house, Virgil felt another shiver run through him.

-==OOO==-

"It wasn't Skullmaster, was it?" Norman asked the next morning.

"I don't believe so," Virgil said. "If Skullmaster were able to exert some kind of control over the Mighty One — waking _or_ sleeping — he'd have done it long before now."

"What about Bran?" And the name grated on Norman's tongue like sandpaper.

Virgil sighed at him. "That's more plausible. The connection between them is routed through evil, and there is little known about Locknarr's true powers. However, I find it unlikely. At the moment, that connection goes only one way: from the Mighty One to Bran. Something would have to occur to open the connection further. And nothing like that has taken place."

"That we know of," Norman said.

"I suppose." Virgil shook his head. "For now, we must trust the Mighty One. If he is in danger or discomfort, he will surely make one or both of us aware of it. And if something is happening that links the Mighty One either to Bran or Skullmaster, it will reveal itself in time."

"What if it's too late by then?" Norman asked.

Virgil, tellingly, had no answer to give.

-==OOO==-

"It's fine, mom," Max said, holding the phone with one hand and lobbing a balled up shirt into his hamper with the other. "I've only done it one other time in the last couple of nights, and Normie keeps me from going very far. I guess two nights ago I went and stared at a bookshelf for a while before he woke me up. They'll keep me safe."

"I know they will, honey, but it's still my job to worry." His mom sighed. "Well. All the parenting books said that teenagers go through all kinds of weird changes, so I guess we'll just have to deal with it."

"That's what Peter said when Virgil asked him about it, too," Max said.

"At least I know you're not wandering off alone."

"Not a chance." Max considered his socks, then pulled them off; he'd ruined a pair last week from sleepwalking into the garden in them. "I've got the best backup guard dog a Cap-Bearer could ask for!"

"All right. Well, I should be gone another three weeks since we got our permit extended. But if you want me to come home sooner, you know I'll be on the next plane."

"I know, but I'm fine. You stay there and show those old dudes up for me!"

"You know I will, honey. Now, don't forget to do your homework. It's a new school year, and I want you to begin on a high note before your world-saving absences start piling up."

He sighed. "I'll do my best."

"You always do, Max. I've got to go. Love you!"

"Love you, too, mom. Bye!"

Max climbed over his bed, pulling the huge pile of blankets up after him. It seemed to help a little if he started the night under a giant mass of covers, or at least it slowed down his escape attempts — that was how Norman described it. It was weird knowing that his body was doing stuff he didn't remember in the middle of the night, but it was also fine because he wasn't alone.

Virgil and Norman had settled into a rotation of coming into his room about an hour after he went to bed, just to keep watch. Norman had always watched over his sleep for as long as he'd been staying at the house, but now he alternated nights with Virgil. Apparently neither of them were too bothered by the interruption to their rest, though Max felt bad about it anyway. He'd asked if they got bored sitting in his room waiting for him to do something, but both just shrugged.

On the other hand, Virgil and Norman were the ones with the patience to walk halfway around the world every week for their adventures before they quit the random global commuting thing, so maybe this was an improvement.

The blankets had a pleasant weight to them, and Max settled into the familiar warmth with a sigh.

_Maybe tonight I'll figure out what I've been trying to dream about for the past two weeks_.

The thought was barely formed when darkness surrounded Max as abruptly as if he had fallen into a portal.

"Huh," he said. Then, "Well, at least I'm aware of dreaming this time. I guess I could have been dreaming every time and never remembered it. So here's hoping I remember." He glanced around. "Not that there's anything to remember right now."

Something made him turn, and he sighed. "Figures."

The darkness was still dark and mostly empty, but now an amorphous shape had formed in the distance. It appeared to be pale and lumpy, moving steadily towards him. Max reached up to touch the Cap, grateful for its presence even in a dream, before he turned back. He let his arms hang loosely, his hands open and ready.

"Hey there! Is this the right train for Albuquerque?"

As the shape grew closer, Max felt the air around him warming.

"Wow. Did you bring a personal heater with you or what? 'Cause I don't know if that's gonna fit in an overhead bin."

The shape was almost right in front of him, but it was no less hazy. Growing worried, Max took a step backwards and held out his hands.

"Look, I'm all for the whole 'silence is golden' thing, but you're starting to venture into my personal space here."

The shape advanced and Max backed up again.

And then his vision was awash in grey.

As quickly as it happened, it vanished. Max looked at his hands, checked for his Cap on his head, and then peered at his surroundings once more.

"Okay. Well, that was weird."

But, this time, the darkness didn't feel empty.

"Are you...still there?"

Silence. A waiting silence.

"Okay, quit creeping me out. I can tell there's someone somewhere. Wherever here is."

There was a sibilant hiss, as of a deep breath after a long dive underwater, and a voice answered.

"You can perceive me."

The voice was soft, and Max was inclined to guess feminine by the tones.

"Uh, yeah. Hi. I'm Max."

"I know who you are, Mighty One."

Max gulped. "How do you know I'm the Mighty One?"

"I have read it in your mind, and in your dreams."

That ignited every one of Max's survival instincts and he felt himself curl into a defensive stance. There was nothing here, no one to fight, but he felt that he had to be prepared anyway.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Don't be frightened. I won't harm you."

"Yeah. I've heard that before." And he didn't want the rush of fear to bubble up from the memory of Skullmaster digging around in his head, but he couldn't stop it.

To Max's surprise, he sensed a flash of anger that was not his own.

"What a vile creature! And how dare he violate you so!" The anger warmed with reassurance. "No, Mighty One. I am nothing like that which you fear, though some may think so. I am what your mind tells me you might call 'misunderstood.'"

"Uh, that's usually code for 'sympathetic villain,' you know."

"I am aware. And yet, there are those who name me villain, though I am not."

Max's wariness was undimmed. "I guess I have to take your word for it."

"I suppose you must, yes."

"Hard to take the word of someone when you _don't know who they are_!" And he didn't feel one bit bad about yelling that as hard as he could into his mindscape.

"I cannot blame you for your caution. But I fear that I shall lose your good opinion once you learn my identity as it is known to you."

"Uh, lady. You're in my head. I don't know how you got here or who you are. I don't know that I'd describe how I feel as a good opinion. It's more like 'not totally freaked out but still thinking of calling in an exorcist.'"

He could sense her reluctance as she spoke. "Very well. Then I greet you, Mighty One, and I hope that you will grant me the opportunity to explain myself. Whatever you believe of me, I assure you it is nothing at all similar to the truth."

A figure coalesced out of the darkness in front of him. Female, wrapped in a heavy hood and cloak, with striking grey eyes that were almost luminous against her thick, dark hair.

Max wasn't sure who was more nervous at that moment.

"I have had many names, but the one you know is Morgan le Fay."


	2. A Bit of Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Welcome back to Mendeia continues to add to the Mighty Max fandom, round twenty. Twenty-one if we count "The Dawning." Anyway, this is the next installment in the Fate Is A Gift series, and there are 2 more to follow it. If you're reading this here, everybody take the time to thank thepreciousthing for the AMAZING cover art!!!
> 
> All chapter titles come from the song "O Children" by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.
> 
> Here we go! Enjoy!

Max knew his reaction to the name Morgan le Fay should probably have involved more fear, or at least caution. Any time mythical people showed up, it always, _always_ meant trouble. And usually running.

But this time, instead, he felt mainly curious.

And, yes, he was aware that he could be getting that feeling from outside himself — and when he had a minute he'd probably freak out about that because _yay more complicated stuff in his head!_ — but he couldn't help it if that was happening, and it was easier to think when he was curious than when he was scared anyway.

"Morgan le Fay," he repeated. "Like... _Sword in the Stone_ stuff? Something-something about King Arthur?"

Her face, which had been still as a marble statue, bent into the tiniest of smiles.

"I find it strangely reassuring that you know so little. Though I find it worrying by the same turn. Are you so uneducated as to other great powers, other conflicts which shaped the very world?"

"Uh, pretty much." He shrugged. "Virgil teaches me stuff, and I've read a lot, but when there's a bad guy waiting inside every single myth and fairy tale and urban legend, and then even more that made themselves up on the spot, it's really hard to get around to memorizing them all."

"Well. I assure you that whatever legends you have heard of me, they are inaccurate. Thus, I will thank you not to judge me based on them."

"Nope, I'm all for judging you by the fact that you're apparently in my head." And there should have been more concern, and there wasn't, and Max knew he should have been worried about that, too. "You said Skullmaster was a jerk for doing exactly what you're doing now — messing with my thoughts and feelings."

"Forgive me." Morgan closed her eyes for an instant, and Max felt a blast of fear run up his spine like a cold wind. She opened her eyes again. "That should set your mind at ease, while also increasing your unease, I believe."

"Uh. Thanks." He ran his hands over his forearms to get the hair to stop standing up, and forced himself to take a breath. "I guess that means you can control whether you're projecting or sharing or whatever you want to call this?"

"Yes. But I have forgotten much in the time that has passed since last I could touch the mind of another. Your experience alone assures me that you know all too well that even immortals are far from perfect."

Max considered. "So...you _used_ to be all up in people's heads, but then you weren't for a while." When she nodded, he asked, "Then why are you in my head now?"

"I am not. You are in mine."

Max blinked. Blinked again. "Are you...sure?"

"Quite. For some time, your thoughts have been seeking my own. At last both our powers have aligned and I may meet you in this joined space. But the initial intrusion was not my doing."

"Wanna run that by me again?" he asked. "Since that's not something I'm supposed to be able to do. I mean, I'm mostly a universal translator and some kinda cosmic battery with a hat."

Her smile was wider this time.

"You are certainly _unique_ , Chosen One. No, your gifts are numerous and far beyond what you currently perceive. However, I believe I comprehend your confusion. If you will permit me, this would be more easily explained if I opened your mind to my own again."

"No, I think I'd rather go with the long version," Max said, and he didn't step backwards as he said it, but he was tense regardless.

Morgan inclined her head. "As you wish. Then perhaps a different sort of demonstration."

She turned to the side and swept her arms through the inky blackness that surrounded them.

"Once, long ago, I, too, battled the powers of evil on behalf of Destiny's might. But I was cast out and banished by one I had trusted."

Max couldn't quite make out any specifics about the shadowy figures that advanced on a grey shape in the hazy scene that unfolded at Morgan's will. But there was no denying the powerful fury and betrayal that ran through her words.

"Because I could not die at that time, I was encased in what you might call a pocket dimension. A fold of energy, like a portal which has been ruptured, connected to this reality but apart from it still. It preserved my life and has since held me utterly helpless and utterly alone."

Max swallowed and glanced around. "You've been here, or something like it, for a thousand years."

"Your mind tells me that it is closer to fifteen hundred, but yes."

In all seriousness, he asked, "How are you not totally off your rocker?"

Morgan made a bitter sound that could never be a laugh. "There are those who would say I began with madness and so perhaps in the solitude I should find sanity. But, in truth, I _did_ go mad. Any being faced with such hardship would be similarly doomed."

This time Max did take a few steps back. "Uh…"

"Then, into the darkness came a light. It blinded me for a time, but it brought order to my chaotic soul. As I returned from my insanity, I perceived that the very fabric of the cosmos was changing, bending to a new will. And I knew you must have been born at last, Mighty One. For you and you alone possess the ability to transcend the energies which confine me."

"Yeah, okay, but are we really sure you're not still crazy? Because, I mean, 'I got better' only works in movies."

"I am sure of nothing of myself." And she looked away as she said it. "But you are clear enough to me, and for that, I will be eternally in your debt."

Max decided that he couldn't ask for much more. How would you know if you were crazy when you were already crazy? It was a Lemurian-fowl-and-egg thing. He resolved to be on his guard, because being surprised by sudden insanity was never a good idea, and changed the subject.

"So, how long have you been in my head? I think I should start charging rent." Max scowled. "First Skullmaster, then Bran, now you. What, am I running a hotel?"

"You mistake all of us, though to you perhaps the experience is the same." Morgan moved her arms again and the scene changed.

Max found himself staring, somewhat grossly fascinated, at the image of himself suspended in the armor of Talpa, bloodied and broken.

"When the evil which held you invaded you, it stole into your spirit. That gave it your mind, but you well know that you held thoughts apart from that which Skullmaster saw. It poisoned your heart, weakened your very soul. But your mind was not entirely swayed."

Max could only nod — he knew that; it was how he had survived. Though, going by how awful he looked, he was newly surprised that he did survive at all. He didn't have time to deal with anything else, though, because Morgan continued to speak.

"The one called Bran," the image changed again, revealing Bran bound by bloody chains just as Max had seen in a dream once, "does not invade you at all. He feels the echoes of your body, like ripples in a pond. This relationship is false, forged by another great evil, and draws from your very blood like a leech. But, though you may sense the connection through your own powers, your mind and your spirit are largely untouched."

"Okay…"

"Our connection is different. And while I cannot and must not reveal all to you now, know that my place in your mind is no accident nor act of evil. It was always to be, for what other end is possible but I, bound by cosmic energy, to be able to touch the one being whose soul is built by my very prison?"

"So, you're saying that you're in my head because I'm connected to the portal energies or whatever we're calling them, and you're stuck in the middle of them?"

"Yes."

"And if we got you out of your one-way portal, we wouldn't be connected anymore?"

"It would certainly be less acute," she said. "However, once two souls are changed by the interference of one another, they can never truly be separated. Once entangled, entangled ever after."

Max sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Translation: yes, it would be better, but you'd still be in my head a little sometimes. Great."

To his surprise, Morgan moved away. "I apologize for the discomfort of my presence, Mighty One."

And Max felt a wash of regret that he knew wasn't his, and shame, and loneliness.

"Hang on." He held out a hand. "Don't do that." He closed his eyes and made himself focus. "You've been alone in the dark for fifteen hundred years. I'm the first person you've talked to since before...I dunno, most of recorded history. And you're not a total monster. So...just gimme a minute. Let me...figure this out."

In the silence of his mind, Max bent all his strength on calming himself down completely, ignoring any feelings that tried to swamp him regardless of their source.

_Assuming everything she says is true, she's gotta be desperate for company. I mean, hundreds of years in the dark alone, and then suddenly a TV window into my head? I can't blame her for jumping at it. She hasn't actually hurt me._

_But that's assuming she's telling the truth. Skullmaster lies all the time, but he's kind of bad at it. For all I know, Morgan le Fay could be a really good liar._

_On the other hand, the fact that I can think about this at all should be proof that she's not influencing me. Unless she's trying to confuse me by letting me have doubts. And letting me think about her letting me have doubts._

_Okay, how about not going down that endless spiral?_

_There's more going on here than I know for sure. That's obvious. She even said she couldn't tell me everything, but she said that we were meant to find each other or something._

_Whatever it is, though, it doesn't feel gross, the way Bran does. That connection is there, but it always feels like the floor of a slaughterhouse somehow. This doesn't. And, yeah, with her in my head I can't necessarily trust my perceptions, but I don't have anything else to really trust, do I?_

_I could kick her out. I mean, it seems like she'd let me do that._

_But if she is telling the truth, then that would be the worst thing I could possibly do to her._

_Even if it's not the smart choice, I think I can only make the right one._

_Virgil's going to lecture me for a month._

He opened his eyes.

"I don't know anything about you," he said, "but I don't want to dump you back in the dark again. I hope I'm not wrong about you. And you can't blame me for not being sure. But I'm not much of a hero if I lock you up all over again, either."

He expected surprise, maybe even gratitude. Instead, he felt her calm acceptance.

"I will accept your decision," she said, and she drew nearer again to stand across from him.

"So, now what?" he asked.

Morgan gave a slight shake to her head. "I know not. This is your mind, Mighty One. I am merely a trespasser."

"Yeah, and being all internal reality TV wasn't really in my game plan, either." He sighed. "I thought that rewinding time meant that things would be easier this time around. I'd know what was coming."

The look she gave him was reproachful. "You know fully well that you are significantly beyond the events you contrived to repeat. Time moves forward again, Chosen One. And you have moved as well, even if your physical form is not yet in line with your mind."

"Tell me about it." Max couldn't help but huff. "I'm two years older than my body. I should be starting to drive, but on the outside I'm still just fourteen!"

"But it seems to me that this last year of your life has been far more eventful than the previous two that you lived twice."

"Well, you know. Nearly died a couple of times — that's not new, but it was different somehow — got tortured, went to therapy, found out I have a second Guardian in a pact with Locknarr…" He shrugged and tried to play it off casually. "The first run wasn't so easy, so I guess this is just the price for getting a couple of years off."

"All things exist in balance, but that balance is rarely perceivable to those with a mortal span of time," Morgan said. "And yet, we cannot stand back and allow evil to rise simply because it seems to be 'balanced.' If we have any power at all, we must use it for good."

"That sounds like something Virgil would say."

To Max's surprise, Morgan flinched. "Perhaps," was all she said.

"You don't like Virg?"

"Your affection for and loyalty to your teacher are admirable," Morgan answered, "but if you must know, your Lemurian is not one _I_ would readily trust."

Max was winding up to argue, but she interrupted. "I understand that he has changed even in these last years. And you can only perceive him through your own eyes. But I ask you not to request that I see him as you do. Our experience with wise teachers is very different, Mighty One."

Max felt his tension drain away, mollified. "Fair enough. You did say it was somebody you trusted who locked you in here, so I guess you've got a right to be ticked off at somebody. I'd be ticked off, too."

Then he stopped as a thought crossed his mind.

"Hang on. You've been floating around in my head for a while, haven't you? I mean, that's why I was drawing your eyes and dreaming about weird stuff and sleepwalking this summer. Right?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you can, like, get inside my head?"

"As I already said, I am already in your head."

"Yeah, but." Max waved an arm. "I'm asleep and I'm here, so it's kinda boring. I mean, if I were awake, could you see what I see? Or, you know, feel stuff?"

"Such an intrusion would be a violation of your trust," she said.

"But what if I let you in? Like, I don't want to sign up to be your meatsuit or something, but it's been a long time since you got to feel anything normal like sunshine or wind, right? You're getting everything you know out of my head, but you're still in my head. Maybe...maybe if you're going to be stuck here a while, we could make it a little less...boring?"

Max watched Morgan's face carefully. For a moment, her expression trembled, like water in a pond. Then it cleared and she gave a true smile. It made her look younger, less ageless and inhuman.

"My gratitude for such a chance cannot be expressed, Mighty One."

"Okay." Max found himself grinning. "Well, let's see about having some fun, then."

_And_ , he thought privately, _maybe living some good experiences will help her forget the bad ones a little. It's the least I can do, since she's stuck here until...I don't even know. But if I can get her to hate on Virgil a little less, maybe with all of us working together we can get her out._

_But first, immortal sorceress or not, I bet even yon olde fair maiden will like ice cream!_

-==OOO==-

Max sat up in bed, blinking. He glanced at the clock, then at the window to be sure; it was only a few minutes after dawn.

"Mighty One?" Norman was leaning on his closet door.

"Oh. Hey." Max produced an appropriate yawn, though he was too jittery with excitement — only some of it his own — to feel tired. "Morning."

"Dream?" Norman asked.

"Nope. Just...woke up." Max shrugged. Then, inspired, he leaned forward. "So, you know I've got that nasty math test this morning, right?"

Norman nodded.

"And Virgil's still asleep?" Max gave Norman a conspiratorial smile.

"What are you thinking, Mighty One?"

"I'm thinking that some peanut-butter chocolate swirl ice cream would be the perfect way to get this day started right — just so I have the best possible chance on the test. Right? I mean, I gotta prepare for a math battle, and if it's a fighting thing that makes it your call, so..." And he waggled his eyebrows at his Guardian.

Norman returned the expression with a grin of his own. "I could eat ice cream for breakfast."

"Yes!"

Norman moved to leave. "Meet you down there, Mighty One. Don't wake up Virgil, or we'll both be stuck with granola."

Max gave him a thumbs-up and waited for him to shut the door behind him. Then he closed his eyes.

_Morgan? Are you there?_

_I am, Mighty One._

_Okay. I'll get dressed and then you can start experiencing the world again, okay? Just don't, you know. Look. When I'm changing._ He tried to ignore the burning of blood in his ears.

_I will respect your privacy. Have no fear._

_Cool. Thanks._ Max climbed out of bed and dressed quickly, adding the Cap as the first step without even thinking about it. Then he moved to his window and pushed it up, letting the sunlight pour across his skin while the morning breeze soared into his room. _What do you think?_

A moment later, Max felt tears on his face.

_It is miraculous. To feel the sun…_

Max realized Morgan was completely lost, overwhelmed, utterly undone by something so simple that he took for granted.

_Actually, Skullmaster kinda did the same thing when I let him out of the center of the Earth_ , he realized.

_To be bereft of that which is alive is the greatest torment possible, Chosen One. I hope you never comprehend this suffering I share with your enemy._

_Me, too. Now, come on._ Max wiped away the tears. _If morning made you happy, ice cream is gonna blow your mind._

_I look forward to it._

-==OOO==-

Virgil's scolding was totally worth the rapturous joy and delight that thrummed through Morgan to Max. The experience of eating was novel to her as well, but the fact that her first food after fifteen hundred years without was Max's favorite ice cream — and the best in the whole world, he would fight anybody who dared argue — was just about perfect.

Morgan repaid him by helping him ace the first math test of the year.

-==OOO==-

"Hey, Virg?"

Virgil looked up from his scrolls to see the Mighty One skid to a halt in the study. "Yes?"

"I know we were gonna go to the museum on Saturday and stuff, but is it okay if we do it another day? The weather looks perfect and it's been a while since I've gotten to hang out at the beach, so I was hoping we could reschedule."

Virgil frowned. "I thought we had dispensed with your childish attempts to avoid your duty through such frivolous pursuits."

Max rocked back, visibly stung.

Virgil drew in a quick breath. "I'm sorry, Mighty One." He gentled his expression. "I didn't mean to snap at you. My own research is proving highly frustrating, and it is trying my patience badly."

"Oh." The boy regained his footing and flashed a smile that was only slightly uncertain. "Sure. I get it. Maybe you should take a break, too."

"I cannot." Virgil shook his head. "All the signs suggest something dire is approaching, but I cannot quite fathom it."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out when we need it," the Mighty One said. The smile was more genuine.

"I appreciate your faith in me," Virgil said, and meant it. "However, I cannot take my focus from my task at this time. But if you wish to postpone our museum trip, I can allow it. Just this once." And he made an arch look designed to be understood in jest.

The Mighty One smirked. "Gotcha. Thanks, Virg!"

And he raced off again.

Virgil sighed and looked back at his scrolls.

_I dearly hope the boy never loses that energy and innocence_ , he thought. _Such darkness waits ahead of him and he has faced far too much already. But this summer treated him kindly, and he seems to be doing well in school. Perhaps he is settling into his Destiny._

_I cannot let him down. I must interpret these warnings before I am too late._

_And pray that I am wrong about what they seem to portend._

_Even if the Mighty One is ready as a hero to face this pain, I am not._

-==OOO==-

Max spent that entire day Saturday with his bare feet on warm sand, walking in the seafoam and wading into the ocean while Morgan wept and giggled in turns inside his skin. The one attempt he made at bodyboarding ended with him wiping out completely while Morgan shrieked with delight.

-==OOO==-

_How come you hate my French class? It's not because you're from England, is it?_

_Where do you get such strange ideas, Chosen One?_

_Uh, because you're in my head, Morg. And every time I sit down in class, you get all hissy like a cat in a bathtub._

_I assure you, I bear no such resemblance._

_And I assure you, you do so._

_If you must know, it has nothing to do with the French language. I rather enjoy that part — it is interesting to see how a tongue I once spoke has changed with time. And it is doubly interesting to interpret it through your gifts. The powers that make it possible for you to comprehend language are truly unique._

_Yeah, great. So if it isn't the French part, what is it? It's not that jerk Cameron who sits behind me, because, yeah, he's a pain, but he's just a bully and I could take him if I had to._

_The boy is an annoyance, but he is nothing to either of us. No, it is that representation of an ancient text upon the wall that ignites my ire._

_That old poster? How come?_

_You have read it, have you not?_

_Sure.  
_

_It tells a piece of the story of Merlin, and tells it so inaccurately, so horrendously incorrectly, that it galls me even to see it._

_Someday you're going to have to tell me about Merlin, you know. And Arthur and all that stuff. But not until you're ready. I can tell it upsets you._

_I thank you for your understanding, Mighty One. But I beg you allow me to wait. The information is of little use to you now, but pains me greatly._

_I get that. Well, if it's the poster that's the problem, I bet we can do something about it._

_What do you have in mind?_

-==OOO==-

Max was pretty sure the teacher suspected him, but there was no _proof_ that he deliberately upset her coffee so specifically that it flew across her desk and only ruined one thing hanging on the wall.

Morgan didn't repay him directly this time, but when he got called on in history class and wasn't paying attention, she gave the answer herself such that he didn't even have to think about it.

-==OOO==-

It was a Friday and the Mighty One would be home from his gymnastics instruction shortly. Virgil was pacing in the front hallway, hands folded behind his back.

"Are you okay?" Norman asked, emerging from the kitchen with approximately a third of the contents of the refrigerator stacked together in an impossible sandwich.

"No. I am not." He spun in place and began marching the other direction. "The signs are quite clear."

"What signs?" Norman managed to make himself understood around a mouthful, but only barely.

"I told you before that I believed the prophecies foretold a resurgence of Lemuria."

"Uh huh."

"What I did not tell you was that...this prophecy is one which should have been averted millennia ago."

Norman gulped another bite, then frowned. "Averted how? Fate is fate, right?"

"You know as well as I that Destiny is comprised of three parts — fate, free will, and chance." Virgil stopped a clawed foot as he paced. "Chance and free will played their parts thousands of years ago. I was there to witness it. There is no reason for this to rise again. There is no reason…"

"Virgil?"

Virgil sighed and met Norman's eyes. "No reason for it to involve the Mighty One any longer."

Norman considered that, but ultimately shook his head. "I don't get it."

"And, for all our sakes, I hope you continue to be in ignorance."

Norman gulped about half the sandwich in one rushed bite. "Is the Mighty One in danger?" He was ready to drop the food that instant and run to his boy if needed.

But Virgil shook his head and looked away. "No. At least, I hope not."

"Then what's the problem?" Norman was confused; he didn't like it when Virgil tried to talk circles around him. It always led to an argument. "Either something will happen, or it won't. If it happens, it's fate and the Mighty One will deal with it. If it doesn't, there's nothing to worry about."

To Norman's surprise, Virgil barked a laugh.

"You would see things so simply." He resumed his pacing. "Norman I...there is something…"

And Norman, who knew Virgil better than anyone, who had known him for thousands of years himself, understood. He went cold inside.

"You have been lying to the Mighty One again."

"No!" Virgil squawked. Then he slumped. "I have...simply opted not to tell him everything."

"Virgil, the last time you did that, we had to deal with _Bran_." Norman didn't bother to hide the rush of his anger, sandwich forgotten.

"I know. I know." He flapped his arms a bit, then spun and paced in the other direction. "But I thought we had more time. I thought that I would be able to slowly bring this to the Mighty One a piece at a time — to lessen the impact."

"To him, or to you?" Norman asked.

Virgil flinched.

"Right." Norman set his sandwich aside and crossed his arms. "So, basically, your scrolls tell you that something is coming, and you're upset because it's going to force you to admit that you kept secrets from the Mighty One _again_ , even after promising not to do so."

"You are partially correct." Virgil stopped moving and stared not at the Guardian, but towards the front door and out into the darkening sky beyond the windows. "For good or ill, I made the choice to keep some information from the Mighty One. And now I must face that. But I do not believe...I truly don't...that it will harm him in any way."

"Other than the fact that you kept it a secret in the first place."

"Other than that, yes."

Norman let out a breath. "So what part did I get wrong?"

Virgil swallowed. "I have come to believe that the scrolls are not warning of some _impending_ venture or danger. There is simply no other way to interpret them anymore. Whatever is going to happen, whatever this resurgence of Lemuria is, it has already begun."


	3. What We've Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't feeling well this week so I completely forgot that Monday came and went without me putting this up. Sorry! Here's the chapter a little late so I can get back on track next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

Looking back, Norman should have known something was wrong far sooner.

It wasn't that he wasn't an attentive Guardian — if anything, his tendency towards protectiveness was only increasing the more times the Mighty One was in horrible danger. The level of peril in their adventures didn't appear to be much greater than it had been at the start, but the trauma to the Mighty One himself seemed to be growing, and Norman hated it with every fiber of his being. He hated that his boy had faced such suffering and doubt and pain and loss. He hated that he had let it happen.

So Norman was _not at all_ shirking on his duties to watch over the Mighty One.

However, no matter how much he wanted to simply hover at his boy's shoulder and guard him every waking moment of the day (and he wanted it _so much_ ), he knew he couldn't. The Mighty One had to develop his own courage, his own strength, so that he could always find it in himself to protect himself if Norman wasn't there. He had to become the true Hero called for by his destiny, and that meant learning some lessons without oversight.

Also, it definitely looked weird to have him following Max around at school, and the teachers had all refused to let him in their classrooms, and Virgil was sick of telling Norman to quit trying to look through the windows before he was arrested.

So, while Norman couldn't literally follow his boy everywhere every minute, he kept an eye out whenever possible. He knew Max almost as well as he knew Virgil even after such a comparatively shorter time together, and he knew how to read the boy's moods like an opponent in a fight. He knew the Mighty One's tells when he was thinking, or when he was bothered, or when the grief of his experiences was rearing its head. He also knew the Mighty One's energy, his enjoyment of life, his cleverness, his humor.

After the sleepwalking ended as abruptly as it had begun, Norman began to relax a bit. Perhaps, rather than some insidious connection to Skullmaster or Bran, it was just a 'phase' as the Mighty One's mother suggested, or something to do with an oncoming growth spurt. That would at least explain the slight difference in his boy after that time — nothing even that he could have given a name, but tiny aberrations in the Mighty One's choices. On the other hand, those tiny aberrations mainly seemed to be concerned with having fun, goofing off, and generally enjoying life. And that was very much within the usual behavior of the Mighty One.

Norman wondered if perhaps the stress of the last few months and years was finally building up, and the Mighty One was responding not by acting out, but by attempting to live as happy a life as possible in compensation. He had certainly earned as much, and Norman was content to assist him whenever possible — especially when it came to ice cream for breakfast. So he did, glad to reinforce anything that made Mighty Max smile so brightly.

But for all that, Norman didn't see the change in his Mighty One until a fateful weekend in late September.

-==OOO==-

Max was biking home and chatting with Morgan about his literature homework at the same time. He'd always been good at multitasking, and with the first month of school nearly past, he was definitely honing those skills. For the most part, Morgan was a quiet presence in his mind — she rarely intruded into his thoughts unless he initiated a conversation, and she kept her emotions locked down so they wouldn't flood over to him. But he felt weird ignoring her for hours at a time when she was basically just a passenger in his head, so he kept up a running conversation with her any chance he could.

_Poetry's boring_ , he told her as he swerved around a person walking a dog on the sidewalk. _I don't mind lit class in general, but sonnets? Yuck._

_I very much comprehend your feelings, Chosen One. While I reverence the opportunity for the expression of self and one's inmost soul, to be so confined into a structure not of one's choosing seems to arbitrarily and cruelly recast any such expression. A sacrifice of meaning for the sake of order is a sacrifice of the value of the meaning in itself._

Max snorted. _Can't help that you're all confined in my head._

_That is not at all what I mean, Chosen One, and you well know it._

_Of course I do._ He let his laugh bubble inside while he paused at a stoplight — he wasn't fond of the looks he got from people when he got caught talking to himself. _But you've got a point. It's that thing Virgil talks about with fate and free will. You have to have both._

He was met with something that had an air of ugliness to it. It was quashed an instant after he discerned it.

_My apologies, Chosen One._

_You really, really don't like Virgil, do you?_

_Your teacher means well, but let us just say that, were I to be faced with him in the flesh, I should not be certain I would refrain from, as you say, kicking his butt._

_Ouch._ Max eased into the crosswalk, glad there were no other pedestrians to trip him up as he got back up to speed. _Are you ever going to tell me why, or — ?_

A rip of terror tore through his mind. _Look out!_

Max flinched even as he realized there was a truck not stopping for the light and he had less than a second to react.

Max threw himself away from his bike, desperately hoping his feet would get clear of its frame enough to save him. But his backpack was weighed down with schoolbooks and it overbalanced him.

He hit the ground, bike and legs tangled, with enough time to cover his head with his arms and duck before the truck slammed into him.

_No!_

There was a burst of grey inside his eyes and a keen pain bloomed in his chest.

Then tires squealed and there was shouting all around him.

Max opened his eyes.

The truck was stopped just inches from his prone body, so close he could feel the heat of its engine on his skin. So close that he should have been halfway underneath it, his shoulders and head a splatter on the fender.

But instead the truck's fender was totaled. The whole front of the truck looked like it had run into a barrel or a giant tree, folding around a roughly circular void, frame and hood crumpling like paper against an invisible barrier.

_Chosen One?_ Morgan's voice in his mind was oddly far away and faint.

He wasn't quite up to words yet, but he managed a questioning sound in his chest.

_You must move. Quickly. Before —_

But he never found out "before" what.

Suddenly he felt his energy drain away as if a cork had been pulled, and he crashed into unconsciousness.

-==OOO==-

"That's it!" Norman fumed. "I'm following him _everywhere_ from now on. School, gymnastics, out with his friends, whatever! Either I'm there, or he isn't!"

"Calm yourself, please," Virgil asked. "They said he is mostly unharmed, but he may have a concussion. You will not help him by raging at him."

Norman brought himself back under control just as the pair of them pushed into the hospital lobby. With the mother of the Mighty One away, they were his legal guardians and their phone numbers were in the emergency contact card the Mighty One always carried. It had not been easy to get them appointed as legal surrogate parents, but the Mighty One's mother had persevered with the help of the school's counselor and the Ghostbusters. After all, as much as the bureaucracy might struggle with the unusual dynamic of the Mighty One and his protectors, that did not in any way lessen their need to be there.

Also, Max was something of a local celebrity — he'd been seen on the news a time or two thwarting evil monsters and giant golems and such — so there were those in the community who were not surprised to see a Viking and a chicken asking after the boy with the weird glowing hat.

"We are here for the Mighty One," Virgil said calmly to the nurse at the intake station.

She blinked at him, then nodded. "Room 413. Go on up."

Norman pounded up the stairs far quicker than any elevator and only barely kept from bursting into the room, Virgil at his heels.

There were several beds and several patients in them, but Norman only cared about one. He made his way to the white-sheeted bed holding the familiar boy, Cosmic Cap slightly askew on the blond hair. A nurse was just shining a light into Max's eyes.

"He's starting to wake up," she reported. "As soon as we're sure he's with us, we'll need to run him through some basic tests to ensure he has no significant neurological damage. We couldn't find any sign of impact, though, so we're not entirely sure how he took the injury in the first place."

There was a wariness in her eyes that Virgil noticed at once. "But we were told he was hit by a car."

The nurse shook her head and pulled out her phone. "A truck _almost_ hit him, but it doesn't seem to have made much contact. One of the paramedics on the scene is my girlfriend and she sent me a picture."

Virgil took in the image of a truck folded around a bicycle lying on the street, and swallowed. "I see."

She glanced back at Max. "Is that...normal for him?"

"Honestly, even I do not know," Virgil said. "But thank you for your care."

"I'll give you a minute before I get the doctor. We'll still want to make sure he's okay." And she slipped away.

Virgil turned back to the Mighty One, who was blinking his eyes slowly. Norman had taken up a position at the foot of his bed, not dissimilar from where he watched over the boy in sleep.

"Mighty One?" Virgil rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Max blinked more normally this time and his eyes focused on Virgil. "Oh. Hi. Uh...yeah? I guess." He flinched. "Gimme a minute." And he shut his eyes again.

_Morg? What exactly was that?_

_Apparently I have some ability to utilize my power through you, but it is draining to your mortal body. I see in your mind that you have swooned before when your strength was taxed by such energies._

_You mean when I passed out because of a magic car? Yeah. But this…_

_Speak to the others, Chosen One, or they will fear for your safety. We shall discuss this when they are not hovering over you so._

_Oh. Right._

Max pushed his eyes open again and drew in a deep breath. "I'm okay," he said. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Mighty One, something has happened," Virgil said. "When you were in danger…"

"Yeah, I know," he cut him off quickly. "Not a clue how, though. Maybe it was just a one time thing?"

"I doubt it," Norman said.

Max focused on his Guardian, noting that there was a tremor of worry in the Viking's shoulders. "I'm okay, Normie. Really. Just tired."

"Well." Virgil appeared to be thinking. "Rest is the recommended method for recovering from a concussion, now that your doctors have finally learned more about how your brains work."

"Do I even have a concussion, though? Or was it just kind of a Cap-Bearer thing?"

"We will know more after the medical evaluation," Virgil said. "But, either way, we shall take you home directly after to rest. Then we can speak about all this."

Max was grateful that the doctor came in just then. Even having her poke him and ask weird questions and test his balance was better than trying to come up with an explanation Virgil would believe.

It took him until he was declared fit to go home and all the way tucked into his own bed before Max wondered for the first time why he was so unwilling to tell Virgil and Norman about Morgan.

He fell asleep to her sense of foreboding.

-==OOO==-

When Max woke, the first thing he thought about was Morgan.

_You there?_

_I could hardly go elsewhere, Chosen One._

_Ha ha._ He smiled and sat up gingerly, his body a little stiff and sore from falling off the bike. _So, I think maybe we should figure out what just happened._

_What do you mean?_

_Well, we knew you could feel through my brain. But we didn't know you could work some magic through me. I think we should figure out how to do it without wiping me out. It could be a huge advantage._

_I see. It may be quite difficult, though. Your body is young and untried, your experience with such energies somewhat limited. I would not wish to cause you harm._

_I'm not worried about harm. I see it like the language thing. Yeah, it's an adjustment, but I need every edge I can get and this is a huge one. So we'll take it slow and figure it out a little bit every day._

_Very well._

Max pushed himself out of bed and got as far as opening his door before he ran straight into Norman.

"Mighty One! You're awake!"

"Yeah. Sorry for scaring you, big guy," he said, smiling.

Norman's face relaxed. "I am glad to see you're all right."

"Yep. But I'm super hungry. Did Virgil make dinner?"

"No. He went back to his scrolls as soon as you fell asleep."

Max sighed, feeling a wave of irritation. "Fine. How do you feel about Burgers-2-Go?"

"I like burgers." Norman smirked.

"Okay. Burgers it is!" And Max led the way downstairs, feeling rather pleased with the world.

-==OOO==-

But there was something off about the Mighty One from that moment forward, and Norman hated that he hadn't seen it sooner.

The Mighty One had often been forced to sleep at odd hours, or go without sleep altogether, due to the adventures that drew them all over the world. He could drop off with the skill of an exhausted soldier and sleep through a herd of elephants (though Norman knew many young warriors who had been similar in that regard with less excuse than the globe-trotting Cap-Bearer). However, he rarely slept during the day without the provocation of international travel.

After that Friday near-miss, however, the Mighty One took to taking many naps — after school, after dinner, even right before bed. The Mighty One's mother assured Norman over the phone that tiredness was a common side effect of a concussion, and Virgil pointed out that there was no telling what a growth of his inborn powers might mean as well. Both advised that they let the Mighty One rest.

But Norman wasn't mollified.

He had noticed that something was off when the boy began sleepwalking, though he let himself be talked out of it. He should have noticed that far more was amiss long before the car crash that wasn't.

Now that he was aware of it, however, he couldn't not see the changes. Changes that couldn't be puberty. Changes that didn't have an explanation. Changes that didn't look like Bran or Skullmaster, but the former was largely an unknown and the latter was the definition of devious. And Virgil still said that neither Bran nor Skullmaster should be able to influence the Mighty One, but _something_ was influencing him. And with every day that passed, it was more obvious.

Norman resolved to get answers — no matter what.

-==OOO==-

Max fought the urge to yawn. "Sorry," he said aloud. "It's just been a long week."

_Indeed_ , Morgan answered in his mind. _We can stop for today if you wish._

"No." He'd discovered that speaking out loud took less energy, and since energy was precious now, he was all for conserving it. "I've got a little more left in me. Let's try it again."

_Very well._

Max widened his stance, shuffling some detritus from the forest floor out of his way with a foot. The concealed spot deep in the nearest park had the advantage of being positioned between the back side of the restrooms and where a nearby housing development had an eight-foot stone wall around their borders. With stone and trees surrounding him, he could act pretty much in secret. And the forest bore the results of this week's work.

_Remember. Concussive power and destruction are always easier, because they take little control. To touch the powers more gently, you must be aligned, mind and spirit, and your focus must be great. This is not swinging a sword or lighting a bonfire. This is the most delicate needlepoint, precise and perfect._

"Yeah, I know." He shut his eyes and held out a hand, palm down.

The grey light flashed inside and his chest felt the ache that was now as familiar as having a strange voice in his head. He could feel the power running like a rivulet of warm water from somewhere in his chest down the arm, trickling to his fingers.

Morgan was silent in his mind, allowing him to focus uninterrupted.

Max visualized his aim and let out his breath in a short, sharp burst.

_Better, I think._

Max opened his eyes so they could both see the results.

Where there had been a barren spot of soil, a flower now bloomed.

"What is it?" He crouched down to examine it more closely.

_A common flower known even in my time. The Ancient Greeks used it for medicinal purposes, and every garden I ever saw grew it. I know not what you call it now, however._

"Looks like some yellow candies. Or buttons." Max frowned. "Is that what I was supposed to make?"

_Since you do not recognize it, I should say not. But it is certainly better than producing nothing at all or a mass of indistinguishable plant material. And the plant appears to be living. So I say this is a success, if an imperfect one._

"Sweet!" Max grinned, poking the flower. But his knees wobbled beneath him and he had to catch himself on a nearby tree trunk to keep from tipping over. "Annnnnnd, I think we've hit my limit, Morg." His eyes were feeling heavy and his vision blurred.

_I should agree. Return to your home quickly, if you can._

"I...yeah." But even as he pushed himself off the tree to get back to a fully standing position, he hesitated.

_Something amiss, Chosen One?_

"Yeah. I don't really know, but…" He blinked his eyes and looked around, his balance following his head so much that he had to wrap a hand around a branch to keep from pitching sideways. "Something's off."

His instincts blared and he spun to face the incoming threat — but lost his battle against vertigo and tipped forward.

A large, strong, _familiar_ hand caught him. Max looked up into Norman's face.

"Mighty One." He was scowling, and the scowl deepened as he took more of Max's weight while Max tried to suppress a yawn. "Whatever you're doing out here, you need to stop."

"Hey, Norman." Max cast about for an explanation, his brain numbing more and more by the second. "I just, uh…"

"You were using magic, Mighty One. And talking to someone." Norman's eyes narrowed. "Someone only you can perceive."

"It's not Bran," Max said, reflexively.

"Why would you say that?" Norman returned.

"Uh...because he has some kind of weird tie to me and it would make sense?"

If anything, Norman looked more annoyed. "I hate to admit it, but that would almost be preferable. At least then we would know what is happening."

Max tried to keep his face neutral, but he flinched anyway.

"You know already, don't you, Mighty One?"

Max sighed. "Can we just go home and talk about this after I get some sleep? I'm exhausted."

Norman gripped both his shoulders tightly, effectively holding him up. "This is not normal, Mighty One. It may not be safe. We need to talk to Virgil immediately."

" _No_." The answer shot out of Max like an arrow, laced with venom he felt too tired to understand. "Not him. Never _him_."

"Mighty One, what do you mean?"

"I will not submit to him again!" Max blinked. There was something wrong with that statement somehow.

But his legs went limp and he slumped into Norman's arms. He wanted to tell his Guardian that he just needed to rest — he intended to — but just as quickly he dropped into sleep.

-==OOO==-

Norman raced home with the Mighty One in his arms. Cognizant of people and their opinions, he ran through backyards and over rooftops rather than down the street. He banged into the house shouting for Virgil.

"The Mighty One is in trouble!"

Virgil upended all of his scrolls racing from the study to the door. "Norman! What is it?"

"I followed him to the park. He was working magic somehow, and talking to someone who wasn't there." Norman strode into the living room and set the boy on the couch. "When he was done, it made him so tired he collapsed."

Virgil caught the boy's wrist and began taking his pulse, watching his chest rise and fall with a sharp eye. "Did you approach him? What did he say?"

"He said it wasn't Bran when I asked him. But he also said...it sounded like he didn't trust you."

Virgil blinked. "That's not very specific, Norman. What, precisely, did he say to you about me?"

"I told him we needed to tell you about all this, and he said 'never him' and that he 'wouldn't submit to him again.' That was the last thing before he was out." Norman's expression was dark and still. "Virgil, when has the Mighty One ever submitted to you?"

Virgil shook his head, throat dry. "Never. We have disagreed many times, and he has followed my instructions as much as he ever does, but I would not say he has ever…" He trailed off.

"Virgil?"

Virgil's mind was whirring at speed, taking disjointed facts and speculations and calculating their likely outcomes. He circled around several possibilities, but only one probability.

"Someone is in the Mighty One's mind, Norman. Someone who can work magic, who is influencing his behavior, and who has some form of history with me. I should have seen it." He dropped the Mighty One's wrist and laid a feathered hand on his brow. "The sleepwalking, the strange eyes, the odd requests. It was right there and I never saw it."

"How could we?" Norman asked, trying to calm himself down; if Virgil was going to panic and get lost in recriminations, Norman couldn't let himself do the same. "It was all happening inside his head." Then, with much greater fear, "Could it be Skullmaster after all?"

"I don't think so," and it was Virgil's only comfort. "The Mighty One knows Skullmaster's mind and his powers. He would not be easily tricked."

"And Bran?"

"I don't believe the behavior fits. If Bran were the one with such control over and through the Mighty One, his antagonism would be towards you, not me."

"So, it's not Bran, and it's not Skullmaster. But it could be anybody else."

"Or any _thing_ else, yes. And I assume that whatever entity this is has steered his mind to prevent him from considering sharing its presence with us in any way. There is no telling how deep its influence may run. We must do something, Norman, and quickly."

"What can we do?"

Virgil looked at the face of his Mighty One and felt real fear.

"I'm not sure."

-==OOO==-

Max woke feeling refreshed. He stretched, yawning.

"Mighty One!"

The simultaneous voices instantly made Max aware of the fact that he was not in his bed; instead, he was lying on the couch with Norman and Virgil hovering over him looking worried.

"Oh. Hi guys."

Virgil planted himself directly in front of Max, arms crossed. "Mighty One, I have grave news for you. Your mind has been invaded by another being."

Max gulped, feeling his face get warm. He ducked from Virgil's eyes. "I know."

"And yet you chose not to inform us."

"It's not that simple…"

"When our _only_ duty is to your safety and well-being."

"She asked me not to!" Max pushed himself upright. "She just wanted a friend, and she wasn't hurting anything!" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was just waiting for her to be ready so I could tell you. I think she's scared of you."

"Scared, Mighty One?" Virgil's eyebrow went up.

"Yeah, I dunno. She had a bad experience with someone who was her teacher or something, and I think she needs time to get used to the idea that you're not a bad person." Max shrugged. "I know I should have told you, but I didn't want to be one more person to betray her. That's all."

"That's not _all_ , Mighty One. Not remotely." Virgil seized one of Max's hands. "You don't have any way of knowing who or what has forged this connection. You say it is not Bran — "

"Yeah, and it's not."

" — and I concur, but it could be Locknarr himself."

Max scoffed. "No way. Trust me, Locknarr could not pretend to be Morg if he tried."

Virgil and Norman both rocked backwards in surprise. Norman recovered first.

"Morg? As in Morgan le Fay?"

Max gulped. "Yeah? You know her?"

"Long ago," Virgil said. "But we know that she was banished from this realm for threatening to overturn the world to chaos by using her powers for selfish purposes."

"Selfish!" Max jumped off the couch and faced them, expression twisted with rage. "Never! My only aim was to protect the innocent from slaughter, to preserve those peoples who were free! I thought from the Chosen One's memories perhaps you were not as I remembered you, but still you prove false! You are far worse than Merlin ever was!"

Norman itched to draw his sword, but he could never draw it against his boy, so he stood, almost shaking with anger and an old kind of fury.

Virgil stared at the Mighty One and his now-grey eyes. "Morgan, you cannot be allowed to take him. We will not permit you to corrupt the Mighty One."

"You cannot stop me." And the sneer was foreign and heartbreakingly strange on their Mighty One's face. "You have no power here. The Chosen One is my ally, and I will not relinquish him or his powers. I will not allow you to destroy him in the name of your _precious_ destiny."

Virgil shook his head. "I would never destroy him. Never. I serve him, now and always."

"You serve _yourself_ ," she spat. "And should he defy you, you would do to him what you allowed Merlin to do to me. But I will fight you if I must, to save him."

The Mighty One's hand lifted and closed into a fist that glowed with grey light.

"Mighty One!" Norman yelled. "Don't! It's us!"

"Max, please!" Virgil actually stepped nearer. "You must not let her do this."

There was a flicker in the boy's face, but the light grew brighter and brighter. Soon the burning light was too strong for even Virgil and Norman to keep from covering their eyes, as much as they hated looking away from their boy.

"Morg," came a low voice. "What are you doing?"

The light pulsed.

"Don't...hurt them. Please."

The very air was heating rapidly now, like the vents of a volcano.

"It's too much. I...I can't…"

Every light bulb in the room exploded, popping sounds echoing while shards of glass rained down.

"Mighty One!" Norman yelled.

"Morgan!" Virgil blindly pushed forward, finding his boy in the burning light and placing himself directly in his path. "If you must kill me, do so, but do it quickly! Or it will be the Mighty One who suffers! He cannot stand the expenditure of your power for much longer!"

"No!" And that was pure Mighty One. The light died instantly, and even through the spots Virgil blinked from his vision, he could see blue eyes once more. "Morg...why?"

Virgil was prepared for his boy's knees to buckle and was swift to catch him, Norman at his side.

Whatever was happening in his mind, the Mighty One looked up at his guardians and his face crumpled with fear.

"She's...something's wrong. I...I think we're in trouble…"

And his eyes rolled up into his head as the remaining tension in his body snapped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.


	4. Broken Little Hearts

Norman carried the Mighty One upstairs at Virgil's direction, tucking the boy into his bed. His skin was pale, and his eyes seemed sunken into dark circles on his cheeks.

"Should I try to wake him up?"

"No." Virgil held out a hand before Norman could start shaking the Mighty One. "He is not asleep. He is not even what medical science would call unconscious. He is trapped in his own mind by Morgan le Fay. Nothing you can do will wake him now."

"Would she truly harm him, do you think?" Norman asked.

Virgil's expression went grim. "I believe we must both fear the worst."

"Then what do we do?" Norman asked. He was nearly vibrating with the need to strike against that which had hurt his Mighty One.

"I...I have an idea." Virgil swallowed. "But it is risky at best." He reached out to smooth the boy's hair under the Cosmic Cap, settling it more securely as if it would lend the Mighty One its strength in his time of need.

"Risky works." Norman looked at the boy. "Risky is better than nothing."

"I am not sure the Mighty One will agree with you." But Virgil was digging in his robes already, drawing out a small pouch tied tightly with a string. "However, we have little choice. We must act, and quickly. There is no telling what Morgan le Fay is doing within his mind."

He tipped the bag out into his hand. The light caught a reflective surface and made the tiny sliver of material shine.

"Virgil." Norman leaned over. "Is that…?"

"Yes." Virgil peered at it, smaller than a pebble, barely larger than a grain of sand but sharper than a shard of glass. "It is a piece of Skullmaster's Crystal of Souls."

"I thought we split that up with the Mighty One after he destroyed it."

"We did." Virgil shut his eyes. "This was left behind in a plastic bag the Mighty One used to catch all the pieces. Rather than hide it, I thought perhaps it might be useful someday."

Norman looked at it askance. "How _exactly_ is that thing going to be useful?"

"Though no longer fueled by the power of the trapped souls of Atlantis, the crystal itself was possessed of not insignificant power. And, as evidenced by the events in Toyama, even an uncharged crystal of this type can have an influence over the mind."

"You're going to use that to invade his mind the way Skullmaster did." Norman's tone was flat, cold.

"I have no choice." Virgil's words were sure, but his voice was not. "I cannot leave him defenseless against Morgan's manipulations. As much as this is a betrayal, I believe it is better than to do nothing."

"But it's Skullmaster's power! It's evil! How do you even know you can control it?" Norman asked, crossing his arms.

"Because." And Virgil's beak twisted in a near snarl. "I taught him how to do this!"

Norman rocked back. "Virgil…"

"There is no other way."

"You don't know that. We could ask the Ghostbusters, or Bai Huo and those warriors in Japan. Or Rath, if you can figure out how to get to him across dimensions again."

Virgil shook his head. "The Ghostbusters are men of science, not magic. And for all the powers of the Ronins and their spirit guardian, I do not believe they can help me reach into his mind. As much as I trust them, I cannot allow any but myself to make this journey."

Norman scowled. "I'm his Guardian."

"Yes." Virgil closed a hand around the shard of the Crystal of Souls. "And there are three very good reasons why you can only remain as his Guardian if you do not make this attempt with me."

"I'm listening."

"First, just as when we entered the astral plane to rescue the Mighty One once before, as soon as I penetrate the Mighty One's mind, my body will be vulnerable. I know it is rare for danger to strike here, but it is not impossible. Someone must remain to stand guard in case some other evil chooses this moment to rise."

Norman grunted. "That's one."

"Second, unless I am incorrect, Morgan le Fay is inhabiting the Mighty One in a magical manner which has no corporeal component. Casting her out of his mind will take the use of the Mighty One's own powers and a great deal of concentration. In short, there is nothing for you to hit, Norman, no enemy you can vanquish with a sword."

"That's two."

"Third." Virgil sighed. "If the Mighty One does feel that my use of this evil to save him is...unacceptable, then that leaves you untainted. There is no telling what Morgan has done to twist his perceptions of me, but her hatred seems fixed upon myself. Therefore, it is logical to leave you untouched by any such ill association. When we have saved the Mighty One, that will ensure he at least has no conflicted feelings about you."

"Virgil…"

"The only thing that matters is his well-being," Virgil said, words suddenly clipped and sharp. "We can repair our communication later. And that will come more easily if he still believes he has an ally in you."

Norman reached out and planted a hand next to where Virgil was leaning on the Mighty One's bed.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Virgil looked away, but Norman only leaned closer. He gave a very un-Lemurian like growl.

"Events are beginning to align with what I saw in my scrolls. I do not know for certain what will happen next, but the fact that it is Morgan le Fay with whom we are dealing suggests that she will do anything she can to separate the Mighty One from myself. She has clearly transferred her hatred for Merlin to me."

"Mighty Max could never hate you," Norman said gently.

"He could be made to hate me," Virgil said. "She could easily do so. Merlin and I were too similar. And, in the end, I did not question his decisions even when he banished her — and this is the result."

Norman considered his oldest friend. "There's something else you're not telling me."

"You're right." But Virgil shook his head. "Hopefully I can reach the Mighty One and nothing more will happen. Therefore, I must act quickly."

Norman leaned back. "Okay. But if this goes bad, I'm calling Peter."

Virgil huffed. "Very well."

He lifted the shard of the Crystal of Souls delicately between two fingers.

"Forgive me, Mighty One."

Then he very gently scratched the boy's exposed arm, drawing blood. Before he could rethink this course of action, he pushed the shard through his feathers onto the pad of his thumb, wincing at the flash of pain and the dark tendril of magic he could sense entering his blood through the cut it left behind.

"Don't lose this," he said, handing it to Norman. Norman blinked at the tiny flake of a crystal, then dumped it on the highest shelf of the Mighty One's bedroom.

Virgil just shook his head and sighed. "Give me four hours, Norman. After that, do what you think is best."

"Good luck."

And Virgil pushed his bleeding thumb against the cut on the Mighty One's arm. From deep inside, he drew forth an ancient incantation, older than Norman, older than human civilization. The words fell from him like tears, cold and sorrowful.

He had only an instant to ensure the connection was forged before he was drawn into darkness.

-==OOO==-

"Morg!" Max yelled into the darkness. "Where are you? What did you just do?"

He was scared. His hands were curled into fists and his heart in his chest — which was in his head, but it was still real, right? — was pounding.

"You did the thing you said you'd never do — you took control without permission! You owe me an explanation!"

The yelling helped, but the silence in answer did not.

He sucked in a breath and shut his eyes. Even in the darkness, he was still inside his own head (probably) and he still had power (he hoped).

_This is my mind. And if she can reach me, then I can reach her. Morgan le Fay, answer me!_

"Chosen One."

He opened his eyes to Morgan standing across from him. However, she looked different. Her clear grey eyes were glowing with an eerie light. Her cloak seemed not to lie still across her shoulders; it moved like water in a turbulent stream.

"Morg. What was that? Why did you try to hurt Virgil and Norman?"

"Because they intended upon hurting me," she returned. Her voice, which had been Max's constant companion, had lost the cool, almost gentle tone he knew; now it was hard and held an edge of something wild and mad. "They would shut me up in the dark again!"

"Hey, no." He held out a hand, immediately dialling down his anger. "They were just worried about me. I didn't tell them about you, and they probably thought Skullmaster was in my head again. Or Bran was trying to get control or something. That's all."

"That is false, Chosen One. For your teacher knows me well enough, or did once. Your precious Guardian remembers me and my pain. They have always feared me, feared my power. They would never allow you to continue to succor me in my suffering."

"Wait. You knew Virg and Normie?" Max blinked. "I thought Merlin was the one who…"

"How little you understand!" She scoffed. "Your Norman was once known by another name — Lancelot. Your Virgil advised Merlin himself. Together, they conspired along with Merlin to bind me in this eternity of emptiness!"

Max felt the rush of her loathing and hate and fear, and fought it. "No way! Merlin must have lied to them or something. Virgil and Norman would never hurt anybody who didn't deserve it!"

"You do not comprehend." She turned and swept an arm across the blank space. "Your Guardian seldom thinks for himself. Even when I knew him as Lancelot, he served better as Arthur's dog than a hero in his own right."

The image showed Norman dressed as a knight, on one knee before a hazy figure.

"But the teacher you revere, the Lemurian, he is something else altogether."

The image swirled and was replaced by a scene of Virgil standing beside a tall man wearing long robes. They were bent towards one another as if sharing a secret, and there was something in Virgil's eyes that Max had only seen once, though he couldn't place it. It wasn't a look that normally belonged to the teacher he knew so well, though. It would have fit better on Skullmaster's face.

"Virgil has no love greater than the love for his prophecies," she said. "He would sacrifice even you for them and you know it."

"He's changed!" Max objected. "He was uptight when we first met, but he's not like that anymore!"

"How can you be so sure? You have known him only a short span of mortal years. He is conniving and deceitful — he can twist your trust and manipulate your heart as a master plays the harp. You know that he has lied to you, repeatedly. That he has kept his secrets when he thought it best served his aim."

"Yeah, but…"

Whatever Max was going to say was lost as a frigid wind blew through the darkness.

Max flinched, and was surprised when he found himself enclosed in Morgan's cloak, her own arms closed around him protectively.

"Morg?"

"Do you feel it?" she asked. "The evil that approaches?"

Max swallowed and nodded. There was something sickening in the air, like a bad smell combined with a subsonic vibration. "It feels like standing in a dark alley outside a sleazy metal bar," he said.

"Stay close, Chosen One. While you and I may not be in agreement on these matters, I will allow no harm to come to you. That is my vow, for you are the only light in my darkness."

"Uh, that was oddly profound."

"Hush, now. We must prepare."

Max nodded. He took the tense moment that followed to sort out his own feelings as well.

Morgan was wrong about Virgil, obviously. She had been hurt so badly by Merlin, it was no wonder she would associate anything he'd done with everyone else in the vicinity. And if she was telling the truth that Virgil and Merlin had known one another, that would make a lot of sense, actually. But Virgil really wasn't that bad.

However, from her perspective, maybe she had a point. She'd been hurt and scared. She'd been banished to darkness and madness and isolation for hundreds of years. And the first thing she saw when she got out was a familiar face who was buddies with the person who did it to her. That would be enough to set anybody on edge.

Even now, when he could sense her rage at Virgil, he was still aware of her feelings for him, and those were not frightening. Morgan cared about him, potently enough that he could feel it. She wasn't trying to hurt him — she was trying to protect herself from a threat, and protect him as well. Her way of going about it could use some work, but Max couldn't exactly fault her.

The cold in the air increased dramatically and Max shivered, huddling closer into Morgan's cloak.

"Mighty One!"

Max jumped in surprise. "Virgil?"

Morgan's arms around him squeezed painfully tight for a moment. "It cannot be!"

"Mighty One!" With a new rush of cold came a rotting smell. In its wake, a familiar fowl appeared. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Virg! How'd you even get here?"

"You have used dark magic!" Morgan shouted, altogether too close to Max's ear. "I can sense the blood and death of it. Deny it if you dare!"

"I cannot." Virgil drew himself up, facing them across the darkness. "Mighty One, I have made use of the last shard of Skullmaster's Crystal of Souls to penetrate your mind in order to help you."

Max recoiled, grateful for Morgan's support. "You did _what_?"

"It was the only way."

"You see?" Morgan held Max tightly. "Even for you, he taps into the most evil powers, powers of death and suffering, because he cannot do otherwise. Like Merlin, he is so certain of his superiority, he cares _nothing_ for those he hurts!"

"That's not true," Virgil snapped. "I was pushed to such recklessness by your own actions, Morgan. I would never have touched Skullmaster's evil but for the risk to the Mighty One that you pose!"

"Oh? Really?"

Max looked up to see the furious look on her face, but he was more interested in her sense of victory bouncing around in his heart. "What is it?"

"You forget, Virgil, that my powers were once vast, and here they are great still. I know you, Virgil of Lemuria. I know who you are, and, of greater consequence, I know who you _were_."

Virgil actually took a step back. "Morgan…"

"You claim that you would never work evil. If that is so, then tell the Chosen One where Skullmaster learned his own!"

Max felt his stomach drop. "Virg? What does she mean?"

Virgil shook his head. "It...it isn't what it sounds like, Mighty One. You know that I…"

"He was Skullmaster's own Teacher," Morgan interrupted. "You know that already."

Max managed a nod.

"Did you truly believe that Skullmaster learned the majority of his dark competencies from nothing? No! All that he knows, all that he has done, it was all born from Virgil's own teachings!" Morgan released Max to point an accusing finger at Virgil. "Every drop of blood he ever shed is on your hands!"

Virgil held up both his hands beseechingly to Max. "Mighty One, you must give me a chance to explain."

"You will do no such thing." Morgan interposed herself and began to glow. "Your pretty words may serve to cover too many lies. However, if it is truth you wish to pass onto the Chosen One, allow me."

"No!" Virgil covered his head, but he could not prevent the strike of light.

"Virgil!" Max ducked around Morgan in time to see the Lemurian disappear. "What did you do to him?"

Morgan turned to him with eyes that burned. "I sent him away. He would never have told you the full truth, not willingly. But you deserve to know it. You deserve to know in whom you have placed your trust, and what he has kept from you."

"Morgan…" Max began.

"I will not hurt you," she said. She held up a ball of churning light. "But I must open your eyes, Chosen One. Only then may you be truly safe."

Max couldn't even brace himself before he was lost in her power.

-==OOO==-

"No!" Virgil sat up, almost falling off the bed.

"What happened?" Norman asked, catching Virgil and steadying him. "You were only out for a couple of minutes."

"Morgan is devious. She has painted me as the Mighty One's enemy, and it seems she will stop at nothing to drive a wedge between us."

"But what did she do?"

Virgil opened his beak to answer, but was interrupted by a sudden motion on the bed.

Max's whole body went rigid, trembling with the force of it. For a moment, Virgil thought he could perceive a slight silver glow on his skin, but it faded at once. Then Max's skin, already pale, drained of all color entirely. He mumbled incomprehensibly for a moment.

"Didn't Morgan have some kind of powers over the mind?" Norman asked, watching in horror.

"Yes, and it appears she possesses them still." Virgil curled his hands into fists. "And the Mighty One is helpless against her."

The mumbling stopped as quickly as it had begun, only to be replaced by a word which was crystal clear.

"S...S'arelmari!" Max's body twitched and the word was ripped from him again. "S'arelmari!"

Norman looked at Virgil. "That sounds...kinda familiar. What's it supposed to mean?"

Virgil wrapped two feathered hands around Max's hand and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "No. Not that. _Please_."

"Virgil?"

"She is…" Virgil's voice dropped even lower. "She is telling him something. He is...learning that which I never wished him to know."

Norman stepped up nearer, and Virgil couldn't have said if it was in protection of himself or of Max. Virgil couldn't have said who needed to be protected more, either.

"Virgil. What is she doing to him?"

"She is…she is revealing my own distant past."

"Yours?"

"Yes." Virgil could feel something in his chest begin to shake. "Before I was ever Virgil. Before Skullmaster was...before he was anything but my student. And...and my friend."

Norman wordlessly dropped a hand onto Virgil's shoulder.

"He will...when he knows…" Virgil looked up at Norman with eyes that were haunted and pained. "This is what I feared to tell him. Mighty Max will never trust me again, Norman. Not when he knows."

Norman tightened his grip a bit. "Then go back in there. Explain it. Protect him, Virgil. As only you can."

Virgil shook his head, misery and defeat in every line of his body.

"Not from this. I cannot protect him from the truth of what used to be. From...what I _myself_ used to be."

"What could be that bad? What exactly were you back then?" Norman asked.

Virgil turned back to Max.

"A fool. A...a pawn. I was...much younger than he is now, in many ways. So sure of myself and of my destiny. So sure...that I became responsible for bringing ruin to all of Lemuria."

"Virgil…" Norman swallowed. "Did you really…?"

"Yes." Virgil closed his eyes and focused only on the slack fingers in his grip. "It seems almost a different person who lived then, who did those things. But it was me. Not...not as you know me now. I was...I was not equal to the task I had been given. All their hopes...the future of my people...it rested on me."

Suddenly, as surprised by it as Norman, he gave a dark, bitter laugh.

"They Named me, just before it all began. Named me for the virtues they trusted me to uphold. But...I failed. I failed them all."

Norman shook himself, and then he shook Virgil slightly.

"You're not the same person, Virgil. You said it yourself. It was a different person then. Now, _right now_ , you're the Mighty One's only hope. _Max's_ only hope. You _have_ to try."

"I…"

"Virgil." Norman lowered his head to face his friend squarely. "If she really is trying to destroy the Mighty One with your past, then you are the _only_ one who can save him. Whatever weapons from your mind she's turning against him, you're the _only_ one who can stop them. So get back in there and do it."

Norman stopped, shut his eyes for an instant, and opened them. And would have denied to his dying day the pleading he could not keep from them.

" _Please_ , Virgil. I can't fight this for him. You _must_."

Virgil, throat tight, nodded. He rubbed at his thumb to loosen the scab, and pressed it to the Mighty One's sluggishly-bleeding arm once more.

And he reached down into himself, down to where he had closed the doors of his heart thousands of years before. Down to memories from ages where humanity had only begun to form language. Down to the time of Lemuria's golden age.

Down to when Virgil had become a new Teacher, and had been so hauntingly Named...

-==OOO==-

"Let the acolyte stand to center for the Naming!"

All the eyes of the city fell upon the young fowl who moved on trembling legs to the very middle of the open forum, cognizant of his carefully-trimmed claws that made audible clicks on the ancient tiles as he moved. His own Teacher had already taken her place with the Elders, and never had the city that was Lemuria's heart seemed so vast and so silent.

Upon reaching the center, designated by a glowing emblem of the life-giving SunSoul, he folded his feathered hands together — and hoped none could see them tremble.

The voice of the Eldest of Elders resounded with authority and honor.

"Acolyte. You have completed the studies set you by your Teacher. You stand here ready."

His beak was dry and his throat was worse, but he forced both to open to reply in a voice that was so very small.

"I do, Eldest."

He could almost feel the wisdom radiating from the highest seat of the Elders.

"You are young, very young indeed to claim Right of Naming and Right of Teaching."

His eyes flicked to his own Teacher, but she was silent, face unmoving as stone.

He squared his shoulders. This was his task, and he would see it through.

"Yes, Eldest."

"Is it arrogance or foolishness which drives you to this, acolyte? You have not yet even passed one hundred summers of contemplation."

This time he lifted his beak higher and felt his answer in his thin chest.

"It is neither, Eldest. It is Destiny."

Even the staid peoples of Lemuria who were in attendance began to murmur in surprise.

The Eldest leaned forward. "And how can you be so certain that you alone are aware of Destiny's secret ways?"

He drew in a slow breath. Then he began to recite a passage of the Four Thousand Epos from memory. It flowed from him as easily as breath with the smoothness of water over stones. Words learned before he knew himself, before he knew his people. Words that were the first he ever wrote, or sang, or spoke.

Even so, he recited them with his eyes squeezed tightly closed, opening them only when he was finished.

"I see." The Eldest had yet to so much as frown. "And so you are the one whose coming is described? You are the one born in the light of a midnight's day with the language of the gods inscribed upon the water of your first skin?"

"Upon the inside of my eggshell, Eldest. Yes." Then, with a bit of raw courage, "You, yourself, declared it so at my hatching."

"I am aware."

He swallowed and took the silence for an invitation to speak. "I have passed my trials, Eldest and Elders. I have mastered the studies set to me. My Teacher has declared me acolyte. For...for my Destiny to unfold, I must take this next step."

"And what step is that?"

"To claim Right of Naming, and Right of Teaching. To be one who walks the path of True Wisdom."

"And what do you believe is your Destiny, acolyte? Simply to Teach? To become Wise?"

He had considered this question himself and was ready with the answer.

"The Epos say only that I shall Teach, and in Teaching, shall the future of Lemuria herself be written."

He almost gasped when the Eldest leaned back, face contorting for the barest moment in what looked like sorrow. But it could have been nothing — certainly any impression of anything other than utter serenity was gone again just as quickly. Perhaps he imagined it.

"What have you been called until now, acolyte?"

"I am Philospiti, Eldest."

"No longer. We grant the Right of Naming."

He looked to his Teacher, and was surprised that she was not moving. Instead, where she should have been the one to rise in order to Name him, she who knew him better than all others, the Eldest was striding to the floor.

He felt a frisson of fear across his skin, rippling his pale feathers. Never in his short lifetime, and never in the many accounts of the Right of Naming he had read in advance, had the Eldest completed the Naming directly.

"Friend to Our People may you always be," the Eldest intoned, "but you shall be Named hereafter in accordance with the will of the Elders and the Fate which binds us all."

He looked up, up, up into the ancient, impassive face with the eyes that swirled with the ages of the cosmos, eyes that had seen too much and knew far more, eyes that held Wisdom and Truth themselves in a constant balance.

The Eldest placed a strong hand upon his feathered head.

"Let the acolyte become a Teacher. And let this Teacher be Named Areti."

Newly-Named Areti bowed in the traditional way. It was not the Name he had expected, and he was profoundly honored. But he could also see the simple logic in the choice the Eldest had made. If he was the Destined one of Lemuria, they would hope that he carried all of their virtues with him — thus to name him Virtue.

The Eldest spoke again.

"Teacher Areti, into your hands we gift this most precious of students. Guide him well, that he may take his place beside us in the service of the SunSoul for the benefit of all life."

Areti looked up to see a small, thin creature entering the circle. He was humanoid in form, unlike Areti's own birdlike species, but oddly pale even for a human. His black eyes were wide and hungry.

Areti belatedly offered the correct response. "It is my honor to Teach."

He waited. This was the moment the Elders and the Eldest would give Areti the chance to offer his student a name — not a true Name, but one to use until the Teaching was over and the acolyte himself stood for the Right of Naming. Areti opened his beak to ask the boy what he would prefer to be called; better that than to name a child he had never met.

But the Eldest surprised him again and skipped that part of the ceremony, moving straight to the end instead.

"Teacher Areti, we place this child, now student, into your care. We beseech you, hold fast to the Wisdom of Lemuria. Go forth, Teacher and student, in search of your Destiny."

Areti swallowed, trying to shake off the shock as the Eldest retreated, not giving another glance to the young student who stood, looking at pale hands in a too-bright circle of light. The Elders rose as the Eldest joined them, all they all exited the forum. The populace who had gathered did the same, leaving the diminutive fowl and his new student alone in the center of the glowing tiles.

Areti drew himself up to his full height and approached his new student.

"Greetings. I am Areti and I shall be your Teacher. Have you a name we shall call you until you complete your studies?"

The black eyes flashed for an instant.

"I will be called S'arelmari."


	5. The Anwer That We Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some more worldbuilding backstory, and the links that bind the distant past to Max's present.
> 
> Enjoy!

Norman watched Virgil's body fall back into trance, followed by a boneless slide towards the floor. He picked his oldest friend up with one arm and pulled the nearest chair closer with the other. When he settled Virgil into place, the Lemurian was still close enough to reach the sleeping Cap-Bearer; Norman arranged it so that Virgil could hold Max's hand even in sleep.

"Be careful, Virgil." Norman settled himself at the foot of the bed to wait. "Bring him back."

-==OOO==-

"He's a demonspawn, you know."

Areti blinked at his former Teacher. "I have become aware of that fact, yes. It was hardly difficult to deduce, given that I spend every moment of every day with him."

She shook her head. "Please. Be careful."

Areti was offended on behalf of his young acolyte. For only a handful of years S'arelmari had been learning the arts of knowledge, the secrets of Lemuria. Had his former Teacher always been so quick to judge those whose heritage was unusual?

"S'arelmari is of Lemuria. He is my student. I could not possibly be in any danger."

"We believe he is descended of the Anathema Hallusko. It is impossible to know for sure, of course, but that is our best estimate. It means he has the potential for great power and even greater evil. You must be certain that all the demon-taint in his blood is entirely purified and his mind is strong and disciplined in order to resist the baser natures of his birth."

Areti frowned at her. "S'arelmari is not the first demon child to join Lemuria, nor shall he be the last. I will not allow him to be defined by the circumstances of his birth."

She scowled at him. "Though you permit _yourself_ to be so defined, my once-student."

Areti drew himself up. "There is a difference, and you know it. I am called by Destiny to Teach. The obvious conclusion is that S'arelmari himself shall lead Lemuria forward, perhaps as an Elder someday. I will not shirk my duty to make him ready for such a task, and I shall ensure he is as sound in soul as in mind to stand as a pillar of Lemuria."

Then his voice darkened.

"But you will not do either of us the dishonor to question my student's mind or his intentions. S'arelmari is a good youngling, dedicated and curious and clever. I will not permit you to treat him with unkindness because of the bloodline he bears by no fault of his own."

His former Teacher, if anything, looked even more troubled. "I wish you the kindness of Fate, then, my friend."

Areti accepted the blessing and forgot about the fear underlying it.

-==OOO==-

In their seventh year together, Areti moved himself and S'arelmari from the collective living space shared with many other Teachers and students to a smaller dwelling just outside the bustle of the shining city. It meant they had to walk farther every day to reach the library, to wander the markets, and to hear the lectures given by the Elders, but it also afforded them greater privacy away from so many prying eyes.

Areti's own Teacher was not the only Lemurian who now looked at S'arelmari askance.

No one ever took any action against the boy, of course. To do so, to treat him with the savagery other species showed to one who was different from themselves, that would be cause for expulsion from the city, if not banishment from the whole of Lemuria. None raised a hand to the boy, and most were unfailingly polite to him as they were to any student or acolyte.

But Areti knew how to read coldness in others. He had experienced it himself in his youth, before his own time as an acolyte.

"It is difficult to be marked by Destiny," Areti told S'arelmari one evening after the chill in the society of the market had been particularly noticeable to them both. As S'arelmari was getting older and larger, his pale face was slowly taking a shape which was less human than even Areti had expected, and there was no denying the student was developing rather a frightening visage.

"Why are they so frightened of me, Teacher?" S'arelmari asked.

"Because they do not understand that we are both marked with glorious purpose." Areti checked himself quickly — it did not do to speak so broadly before his student. "And that purpose may yet be a simple one. But to live in the service of Lemuria is noble, and few are those who will change the path of our people in even the smallest manner."

"And you think I can?"

"I think you certainly will." Areti patted him on the head. "I think that Destiny has chosen me to Teach you, perhaps because we are so much alike. You are different from the other students, and not because of your heritage."

S'arelmari looked carefully at his Teacher. "Am I...smarter than the others?"

Areti smiled. "I think that you are. Your mind is quick, young one. As quick as my own. If you continue at the pace you have set, you, too, will claim the Right of Naming before you have finished your hundred summers of contemplation."

The student looked at his pale hands, increasingly thin with long fingers. "Would they...like me better, do you think, if I were more like them?"

"I think you must be what you are," Areti told him. "As every star in the sky is different, but all shine upon us, you must be whatever you are, and find yourself in your own way. It may mean you stand somewhat apart — perhaps you are no binary star, nor part of a cluster — but your light will be all the brighter in comparison to the dark."

S'arelmari nodded and settled himself on the floor, leaning against Areti's chair. Areti fondly patted his student's head again before he lifted the book of literature he had been reading aloud every night. Most Teachers, he knew, did not socialize with their students in the evening, but Areti and S'arelmari had no one but each other with whom to spend time in their little home. And neither was overly friendly with their peers in other student-Teacher pairs. So Areti took it upon himself to share the arts with his student as well as the Wisdom of Lemuria.

Areti thought his life had never been so peaceful or so pleasant.

-==OOO==-

"Teacher?"

"Yes, S'arelmari?"

"I do not understand this passage."

Areti leaned over his student's broad shoulders to look at his copy of the Four Thousand Epos. "It speaks of the coming of the Krateros, a hero to surpass all heroes."

"But why is the next passage missing?"

Areti nodded in approval at his student's cleverness. The passages of the Four Thousand Epos were each numbered for better study; the following passage was absent. But the numbers were small, curved into the illustrations that ran from page to page, and it took a quick and clever eye to catch the ones where numbers jumped so abruptly.

"There are a few Fates which are held most secretly," Areti said. "They are known to the Elders and the Eldest, but taught to none else. The Fate concerning the Krateros is one such. But it is of no great concern. Continue your studies, please."

"Yes, Teacher."

-==OOO==-

Areti found himself pacing outside the closed chamber, hands clasped behind his back.

It was the end of S'arelmari's first cycle as a student, ten years of relentless study now being closely examined by the Elders for any fault or failure. Every student was called to be questioned and tested at the end of each cycle, and if they had not progressed sufficiently, they would be required to remedy the lack and submit to a subsequent evaluation before the next cycle could begin. The majority of students found themselves called to several examinations before they could progress in the early cycles — it was normal to expect the young ones to need more time to recall all that they had learned and to balance the beginning of Wisdom within, especially when such diligence was still being mastered.

Areti dearly hoped S'arelmari would not be found lacking.

A great deal of this was pride on Areti's part; he himself had needed no subsequent examinations and had proceeded from cycle to cycle without delay throughout his time as a student. He had been named an acolyte after the sixth cycle, as was the custom, but had been pronounced completed with his studies after only the eighth. Most students required at least eleven or twelve cycles before they were ready to stand for the Right of Naming. But Areti had progressed so quickly, so effortlessly, so easily.

He wished the same for his own student with all his heart.

Perhaps the people of Lemuria, and the Elders in particular, would warm to S'arelmari if they better understood his intelligence and his drive to learn.

Areti would be proud of S'arelmari no matter how this cycle was judged, or the next, or however many after that. If S'arelmari required but eight or nine cycles before his Naming, or if he required twenty, Areti would be proud of him. But he knew in his very bones that S'arelmari was capable of far more than the average student. It was his private belief that S'arelmari might even be designated an acolyte at the end of his fourth cycle, earlier even than Areti himself.

But that was getting very, very much ahead of today's concerns, and Areti made a tight turn to continue his pacing.

If S'arelmari did not progress today, he would not be given access to the next chamber of the library, either. S'arelmari was very eager to pass beyond the Red Door, to gain the secret knowledge within, to deepen his understanding of Lemurian Wisdom. Areti had warned him that every set of doors, beginning with Red and ending with Black, led the way to new chambers, new hidden teachings, deeper and more profound knowledge. Areti was sure that the cycles of examination were the only thing keeping S'arelmari from racing through them all to the innermost sanctum of the library where acolytes could only enter before standing for the Right of Naming.

And only upon that occasion would they be told of the secret Diamond Door, whose location was known only to the Elders and the Eldest, which guarded the deepest, most profound secrets of Lemuria.

Even Areti had tried to find it — how could he not? But there was nothing in the Black chamber, no possible hidden space or entrance, and he had soon given up. He must master the Wisdom on his own and earn admittance as an Elder before he might share these last secrets.

Areti was not too discomfited by his failure, however. All things must happen at their appointed time, and the ways of Fate were not to be questioned. If the Diamond Door were meant to be found by a mere Teacher, it would have been. It was not, so, logically, Areti knew that he had not yet achieved his Destiny sufficiently. He must continue his own studies and his own Teaching, and at last True Wisdom would make itself known.

There was a sudden tension in the air, and the door to the examination hall opened.

"Enter, Teacher of S'arelmari."

Areti tried to move with dignity, but his heart was pounding and he stepped a little too quickly to join his student in the center of the room.

The Elders all looked at Areti with blank, unreadable faces. With a jolt, Areti noticed that the center chair of the Eldest was vacant. However, the Elder to the right hand of the Eldest's customary position rose.

"The first cycle examination has been completed. We pass S'arelmari to the next cycle of study. Congratulations, Areti."

Areti grinned before he could school his expression. He bowed.

"Thank you, Elders. We are honored by your approval."

"You honor Lemuria with your dedication," the lead Elder replied.

Areti accepted the dismissal and led S'arelmari from the room. Outside, he grinned again.

"I am so pleased with you. You have shown true intelligence and courage to work so hard in such a short amount of time."

S'arelmari gave a tiny shrug and an almost-embarrassed smile. "It was your Teaching and dedication that carried me so far."

Areti felt a surge of warmth, of pride, of certainty wash through him.

"Then let us begin the second cycle at once. Between the two of us, I am certain you shall attain your own Naming far sooner than anyone expects."

"I look forward to it." Then, shyly, S'arelmari reached out a hand. "It would honor me greatly, Teacher, if you would also be...my friend."

Areti grasped the long, bony hand with two of his own. "Traditionally, one who Teaches cannot call a student 'friend' until at least they achieve acolyte-ship." But his eyes twinkled. "In this case, given the...uniqueness of our situation, I don't mind acting against the norm."

"Thank you, my friend."

"We shall be very old friends, indeed," Areti said, releasing S'arelmari's hand and beginning to lead the way to the library. "In a few centuries, I believe we shall be united as no two allies in many eons of Lemuria's history."

S'arelmari smiled at Areti and fell in beside him. "I look forward to it."

-==OOO==-

S'arelmari answered Areti's ambitions with great success, passing each cycle in turn and earning his place as an acolyte in his fiftieth year of study. By tradition, an acolyte was not so called until the seventieth, but Areti had forgone tradition and now so had his student.

Areti was fiercely proud of S'arelmari, and cared nothing for those who raised eyebrows at the flaunting of how things were done. After all, Areti had been called to acolyte at the same time in his own studies, and had further disregarded tradition when claiming the Right of Naming and Teaching immediately upon gaining entry to the Black Door, the last phase in one's studies, rather than finishing his full hundred summers of contemplation. Areti understood that such limits were in place to ensure students had time to assimilate and comprehend the difficult Wisdom that required patience and maturity to understand, but such limits simply did not apply to him or to S'arelmari, either.

It certainly did serve to isolate them further from Lemurian society, however. Other Teachers and students rarely spoke to them, and even the Elders grew more distant as the years passed. It saddened Areti that his friends and peers were so uncomfortable with his and S'arelmari's successes.

And yet, they could not do so well if it were not their Destiny to be exceptional, and Areti rested comfortably in the knowledge that they were so Destined and therefore there was nothing to fear.

However, that comfort shattered in the middle of S'arelmari's penultimate cycle.

It was late in the high summer, when even in the depths of night the air was warm and pleasant. The sun itself had long since dipped below the horizon and night had fallen.

Areti himself had left S'arelmari to his studies in the library, opting to take an evening walk while contemplating the next lessons for his student. S'arelmari was progressing so quickly, Areti was afraid they would complete all the material for the cycle prior to the end of its ten years. As they could not proceed into the Wisdom of the final cycle until passed by the Elders' examination — and the Elders would not examine S'arelmari early; such was simply not done — Areti needed to strategically plan the next few years to ensure his student was not left idle.

He was startled out of his musings by the arrival of his student. S'arelmari had grown enormously in the last cycles, towering over Areti and most Lemurians. His skin had continued to drain of color until it was nearly white, and he still bore a somewhat skeletal appearance. Even the long robes of the acolytes could not hide his strangeness.

But his appearance did not trouble Areti who knew him so well; the rushed, wide-eyed expression, however, did.

"Whatever can be the matter?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

"Yes, and I urgently require you to accompany me back to the library, my friend."

Areti frowned. "The others are not refusing you access to materials you require for study, I hope?"

"No, nothing like that." S'arelmari shook his head. "In fact, once it was apparent to them that I intended to work late into the evening, they chose to absent themselves. The library is quite deserted and has been for some time. But you must see what I have found."

Areti nodded and they returned to the city, entering the library and finding it abandoned for the evening. Together, they passed through the Red Door, moving from chamber to chamber along the path of a student towards the deep, innermost sanctums that held the most difficult Wisdom to master.

But when they reached the chamber of S'arelmari's current level of study, Areti rocked back in shock.

"Impossible!"

The Verdant Door, the one that should have remained sealed to S'arelmari until he was passed by the Elders, stood open.

"Please, Teacher," S'arelmari said. "I beg of you to trust in me. Any violation is worth the knowledge I have attained."

Areti swallowed, but finally nodded. "Very well. You have my complete faith, my friend. Lead on."

Still, it was with great trepidation that Areti followed his acolyte through the Verdant Door. How it had opened for him at all, Areti had no idea — always the library guarded its secrets until a seeker of Wisdom was deemed ready by the Elders.

"How did you come to open the Door?" he asked, whispering. There were no others about, but the library demanded silence always, and he felt great trepidation besides.

"It was not difficult," S'arelmari said. "I simply approached and asked it to allow me to learn all that it contained. The Door itself made the choice to admit me."

"Never have I heard of anything like that happening in the history of Lemuria." And despite his misgivings, Areti felt a shake of joy inside. "Perhaps the time of your Destiny, and mine, is finally upon us."

"That is my hope as well." S'arelmari paused before the Black Door, the last opened only when an acolyte was about to stand for the Right of Naming. "Now, let me show you."

Areti was _certain_ the Black Door would never give way for one who was still a cycle from Naming, and yet as they stood before it, it opened slowly.

"S'arelmari, this is unheard of!"

"This is not all, my friend. Look." And S'arelmari stepped into the center of the Black chamber, his white skin eerie in the darkened space.

The stones beneath the acolyte's feet began to glow.

"This cannot be!" Areti moved forward, stunned. For the stones were shifting and shining, their light both colorless and prismatic. They formed into the shape of a small, round platform.

"What is this, Teacher?" S'arelmari asked. "It is in nothing I have studied before."

"The Diamond Door," Areti said, filled with wonder. "The final bastion of all the Wisdom of Lemuria. It is known only to the Elders."

"Until now." And the platform sank into the floor, carrying S'arelmari and Areti with it.

In some part of Areti's heart, he knew that this was a great sacrilege. He knew that to enter the Diamond chamber without the knowledge and blessing of the Elders, to allow an acolyte who had not even stood for Naming to do so, was an offense greater than most in all of Lemuria. He knew that whatever powers had bent themselves to permit S'arelmari so far could not be excused.

And yet, he had longed to attain his own Destiny. It was written in the Four Thousand Epos that he should hold a place of great honor and import in the history of Lemuria. He was young compared to his own people — the Eldest himself was many tens of thousands of years old — but he felt sure that his years must be sufficient for him to finally answer the words found inscribed on the inside of his birthing shell.

Perhaps this was the very path meant for him and for his acolyte. Perhaps their Destiny was to change Lemuria, to reveal her secrets, to find insight in that which had been hidden which would lead their people to even further greatness.

Perhaps this was what must be.

So Areti silenced the uncertainty within himself and simply allowed events to carry him.

The platform descended into a large, dome-shaped chamber. With every moment that passed, the chamber slowly grew from darkness to light, uncountable tiny stones glowing in celestial patterns upon the rounded walls. When the platform at last touched down on the floor, light spread out in all directions, pale as the moon and brighter than the sun.

Areti gazed at the wondrous chamber, far beyond what even he had imagined. "I never dreamed that the Diamond chamber could be so beautiful."

"But if it holds all the True Wisdom of Lemuria, could it be anything less, Teacher?" S'arelmari asked. "Come. There is so much to show you."

"S'arelmari, I am not sure that is appropriate." Areti did not step off the platform yet. "The secrets here, they are secret for a reason. Lemuria stands upon the foundation which was laid in this very room. If the Elders had intended for either of us to study here, the Diamond Door would not be forbidden."

"I understand your apprehension, but I believe you have been misled."

"What can you mean?"

"When I first ventured here just before seeking you out, I thought perhaps to fulfill only my curiosity about the missing passages in the Four Thousand Epos. It seemed a harmless place to begin. But what I have learned...Teacher, you must see for yourself."

His dark eyes were so entreating that Areti found himself nodding and allowed his student to lead him along one of the brilliant paths deep into the room. Glowing stones radiated from the platform like sunbeams; they followed the largest and brightest of these to a wall covered with writings and images. The language was familiar, but the pictures depicted were barely comprehensible.

On a pedestal before it sat a thick, bound volume.

Areti hesitated, but S'arelmari picked up the book as if it were one of his own and began turning pages.

"I remembered that you once told me that the Destiny of the Krateros was that of a great hero, but that all else concerning him was known only to the Elders. That is where I began my examination. What I found is so disturbing, it drove me to learn more. Please, tell me I am misinterpreting this."

Areti accepted the much heavier version of the Four Thousand Epos and returned it to its pedestal. He scarcely noticed S'arelmari drawing a nearby stool close so that he could stand easily upon it to read the ancient tome. Turning past the familiar pages, he found the beginning of the foretelling of the Krateros and began to read. Almost at once, he was lost to anything but the hidden knowledge before him.

Areti did not track the time he read, nor what S'arelmari did while he was engaged. As horror grew in his heart at the words so directly stated, he shook his head — this could not be! He turned to where he had begun and read the passages another time, more slowly. The sun would have risen above, the day well begun, but still Areti read. He did not care if a full summer passed without his notice — he _must_ comprehend this terrible Destiny!

When at last Areti closed the book, turning to sink down upon his footstool and holding his head in his hands, he felt infinitely wearied. Aged, even, by the Wisdom he dreaded to know.

"Teacher?"

Areti gulped a sour taste and looked up. S'arelmari sat nearby, perusing another book; Areti did not even bother to notice which. From his posture, S'arelmari had been waiting for a long time, and had read rather a tall stack of the sacred, secret texts in the meantime.

"S'arelmari...I…"

"Do I misunderstand?" He set down what he was reading and folded his hands in his lap, his bony knees sticking out awkwardly. "Is it truly our Destiny…?"

"Oh, my friend." Areti thought he might cry at the forlorn expression on his student's face. "I am afraid there can be no other interpretation."

"The Krateros is no hero at all." S'arelmari leaned forward, his words unsteady and almost angry. "He will rise to kill us both. And when he does so, he will destroy the whole of Lemuria as well."

"Yes. But it is far worse than that." Areti realized he was shaking. "Every Teacher and every student, every acolyte, every person in Lemuria knows of the coming of the Krateros. We all are charged with ensuring his rise at any cost. It is the only part of the Destiny of the Krateros which is known to all."

"Then…?"

Areti drew in a painful breath. "The Elders know that the Krateros will destroy us all, and yet they continue to ensure it will come to pass. The Elders have betrayed Lemuria."

S'arelmari went very still for a moment. But when he spoke, his voice held none of the doubt or indecision that was so common to his ways. Instead, he was firm, as though a fire had been lit within his very soul.

"Then we must do something."

"What can we do? We have broken the very laws of Lemuria to attain this knowledge. We shall be banished, our Names stricken from us." Areti was beginning to feel almost hysterical himself.

He was, in fact, beginning to feel rather young. This knowledge, this Wisdom, it was greater than his heart could bear. The level of betrayal, the pending doom for all he treasured, the stark certainty of his own death — it made him feel small and powerless and desperate for someone stronger than himself to help him.

For all he was a Teacher, Areti wished dearly that he could stand in the shadow of another and let their Wisdom guide him. For he knew not what to do.

He did not expect S'arelmari to stand, holding out a hand to draw him up.

He did not expect to see a power, magnetic and reassuring, in his student's very eyes.

He did not expect S'arelmari to answer his weakness with such courage.

But Areti was profoundly grateful for it. And so when S'arelmari spoke, Areti found himself comforted even upon hearing words that were yet more frightening than those he had read.

"If the Elders have betrayed Lemuria, then _they_ must be banished, not us. If this is the Destiny they have nurtured for us all, then we must undo all they have done to ensure the safety of our people. And if the path of the Krateros leads to our deaths, then we must prevent him from rising, no matter the cost."

S'arelmari's eyes had never looked so black and dark.

"Together, we must drive out the Elders and conquer Lemuria, for it is the only way to save it from destruction."


	6. That Lovely Little Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of Max in this one, but plenty of Virgil, and the one who would become Skullmaster. Writing the slow descent of Virgil (Areti) from virtuous Teacher into becoming a willing pawn for genuine evil was not a fun process, but I hope it's entertaining to read. It makes my skin crawl thinking about being that evil and manipulative. Not coincidentally, I absolutely have ideas about killing Skullmaster for real someday. I'm not there yet, not even soon, but someday. The outline has been written!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

For just a moment, Max pulled himself out of the flood of memory, like taking a gasping breath in the middle of a river's current.

_I'm the Krateros. I was destined to destroy Lemuria? But...I didn't. I couldn't._

_Virgil helped Skullmaster to try to keep me from being born?_

_And he didn't tell me…about any of it._

_He really was lying all this time…_

He felt the swift touch of Morgan's presence. _Rest easy, Chosen One. I will not let him harm you. But there is more to know._

_But!_

And he was engulfed in the past again.

-==OOO==-

Areti emerged from beyond the Diamond Door a changed person. No longer so sure of his own future, no longer so proud of his place in Lemurian history. No longer so trusting of the Elders and Eldest who were, at best, complicit in tragedy and, at worst, the greatest threat to Lemuria ever conceived. Only days before, Areti would have cast aside any idea, no matter from whence it came, that the Elders or Eldest might be in the wrong — now, he could not see them in any other light. And it brought him to question everything else he had ever known.

How could he trust in his own Destiny if these were the plans against his people?

How could he trust in the confirmation by the Eldest that he was the one from the Four Thousand Epos, or that what was meant in those passages he held so dear was truly noble and good?

What if his Teaching, his Destiny, was meant to further the destruction of his very people?

Areti was shaken to the very roots of his soul, chilled as if the SunSoul had never shed its warmth upon him. All that had been True was now False, all that had been his long-sought-after Wisdom was now Foolishness. All that he had ever wanted, ever worked to achieve, was now tainted and evil.

Areti did not remember making his way back to the home he shared with this student. He did not remember pulling the cover from his bed and wrapping himself in it as if its warmth could thaw the frozenness of his mind. He did not realize that he was passing into shock, his very body failing with the upheaval of his world.

He must have been lost in that numb fog for most of the day, for he only roused back to himself when S'arelmari forced a cup of warm tea into his hands, holding it still when Areti's own were unstable and shaking.

"Drink, Teacher." S'arelmari was calm, his tone gentle. "It will help."

Areti obeyed, and the tea revived him. He glanced to the window, surprised to see the daylight already fading.

"I am sorry, my friend. I had no idea that my search for knowledge would lead us to such darkness."

"No, S'arelmari." Areti shook off the last of his stupor and faced his student, heart hammering in his chest. "It is not you who has brought this upon us."

"No. It is the Elders." S'arelmari looked away. "I still cannot fathom such a level of betrayal. How _could_ they? How _dare_ they?"

Areti met some of S'arelmari's rising anger with his own. "We must learn more. I wish I could believe that we would find some sort of explanation or exoneration, but I now know better than that. Instead, I believe we must begin to comprehend how far their ill intent goes, and its purpose."

"It's purpose?"

"Why destroy Lemuria?" Even asking it aloud caused something in Areti's bones to ache. "What possible benefit could anyone derive? It cannot be merely a whim, for these plans are eons in the making. No, there must be some purpose. And we must discover it."

"But, if we are found out," S'arelmari began.

"Then we will not be." Areti drew a deep breath. "How much do you know of what lies beyond the Black Door?"

"Only that which we saw briefly before the Diamond Door revealed itself."

"The Black Door opens only after one has been passed by the Elders, after one has received the Rite of Naming," Areti explained. "The knowledge there is dangerous in the wrong hands, perilous to trifle with. It is forbidden to all but those who have proven their dedication and their wisdom. There is a reason that final Door is black."

"Why does such knowledge even exist, then, if it is so treacherous?"

"Knowledge is knowledge," Areti said. "It, in itself, has no morality other than that which we assign. And to know nothing, to be ignorant of that which could be used for evil, it leaves us more vulnerable to such acts." His breath caught in his throat. "In...in order to safeguard the future of Lemuria, we must know the face of darkness that we may…" He felt himself shaking.

S'arelmari raised a hand. "Please, do not push yourself beyond what is safe, Teacher." He drew the teacup away before Areti could drop it.

"None of us are safe," Areti said. He felt his strength returning at last even as his body rebelled. "Not if our own Elders plot against us. But Destiny has given us a way to prevent them." He smiled at S'arelmari. "Your entrance to the forbidden chambers of knowledge can be nothing but that which must be. For without this, we may not have learned such secrets in time to act."

"But what will we do?" S'arelmari asked. He, who had been so certain back in the Diamond chamber, seemed to be hesitant once more.

"We must do what we are meant to do," Areti said. "I am a Teacher. I know this. And no betrayal by the Eldest himself can deny that which rings true in my own soul. I cannot lead a force to preserve our people, cannot rally a power great enough to protect Lemuria. But I can guide, and I can instruct."

"Guide and instruct whom?"

"You, S'arelmari. You must lead us."

"But...but I am hated. I am a demonspawn."

"And yet you see clearly. S'arelmari, I am sure that when we find those who will listen to reason, who will hear us and believe, they will see in you all the greatness that I see as well. I can teach you the knowledge that lies beyond the Black Door, how to hide from penetrating eyes, how to gather power and store it for use when needed, how to do what must be done for the sake of Lemuria."

"If you Teach me," S'arelmari said, "then I will not be afraid to use this knowledge to save us all."

"Yes. This must be our Destiny. Spies we must be, perhaps saboteurs, even traitors. But only until the people of Lemuria see the danger which smiles from the council chamber. Once they know what the Elders very nearly brought about, they will understand that our methods were not evil — they were our last resort."

"Very well." S'arelmari held out a hand, much larger than Areti's own. "Teach me, then, and together we will save our people."

Areti grasped his student's hand and had never been more assured, and more frightened, of anything in his life.

-==OOO==-

Their days, from any outward appearance, changed little after their revelation. Areti and S'arelmari spent a great deal of time in seclusion or in private corners of the library studying. S'arelmari was officially in the cycle approaching the Verdant Door, which required rather a great deal more individual instruction with other Teachers than those previous. This led to Areti speaking to his peers at length, trying to find others who would be willing to sit with his student for such sessions. And, while many Teachers were uncomfortable spending time with the demonspawn S'arelmari, a few were eager to educate the pariah of Lemuria.

What none knew, for they did not look close enough to observe, was that the subject matter of Areti's lessons had changed.

No longer did they seek the Wisdom of Lemuria, pouring over her ancient texts and examining the nuance of every line. No longer did they discuss the morality and ethos of all that they learned, seeking the correct path forward. No longer did they bother with the finer points of instruction.

Instead, Areti unleashed his knowledge of all things that were to be forbidden to S'arelmari — of blood magic and trickery, of manipulation and dishonesty. S'arelmari, for his part, proved to be as adept at such acts as he ever had been at memorizing the Four Thousand Epos or composing a treatise on its meanings. As always, Areti found in his student a willing and able pupil, quick to assimilate knowledge and quicker still to master it.

As their comfort with their subversion grew, so did their daring. It was less than a season from when Areti and S'arelmari first attained the forbidden knowledge until they identified a Teacher who might be sympathetic and began bending his ear to their fears. Such a conversion of a dedicated and loyal Teacher took another two seasons, but it ended in success — the Teacher came to see the truth in their words and vowed to assist. After that came another, and another.

"If we are in error," S'arelmari always said to them as they slowly turned to his side, "then my Teacher and I alone will bear the burden of shame. But when we are proven correct, then it is all of us together who will be remembered as the heroes of Lemuria who saved it from destruction from within."

S'arelmari and Areti had always played Lemurian chess when not working on S'arelmari's studies; now those games had become the vehicle for planning and strategy. They diagrammed out their arguments, their next steps, even how and who they might next convince to join their cause. Areti had been nearly undefeatable at the game in his own time as a student, but S'arelmari bested him regularly.

It could not frustrate Areti — it enhanced their approach exponentially.

Areti and S'arelmari's plans had developed two primary goals — to remove the Elders and Eldest from their offices to prevent further risk to Lemuria, and to thwart any chance of the Krateros rising to ensure that Lemuria would never be destroyed.

It took little time for Areti to realize that he was far more at ease with the latter than the former.

"After all," as he said to S'arelmari one day, "to prevent the birth of one is no great loss — he will never exist and therefore we cause no harm to him. But to act against those who have been our Elders...it makes my heart recoil even as I know it must be done."

"Have no fear then, my friend," S'arelmari was quick to assure him. "There are two of us, and more every day. Let us each take one task, and then we know both shall be accomplished."

And so Areti bent all his energy to his study of the Krateros.

However, as he learned shortly thereafter, the greatest knowledge of the Krateros was still held beyond the Diamond Door, which he dared not risk for fear of revealing anything to the Elders. With little to go on in the way of direct sources, Areti began looking for tiny ties of insight, ripples of a passing mention, events that influenced events that influenced events, which he could trace back to the supposed hero. In this way, he discovered that the Krateros was everywhere in Lemuria's future, a rock cast into a still pond that changed everything the water could touch.

"Eliminating the Krateros will not be simple," he said to S'arelmari one night. "There are multitudinous redundancies in every possible future indicated by every text to ensure his rise. We have some millenia before that time, of course, but cutting them all off may be impossible."

"If there is anyone who can find a way, I trust that it is you, old friend," S'arelmari said. "But perhaps we do not need to prevent his birth. Perhaps we need to simply render him powerless."

"Ah. But I cannot yet trace the source of his power. Such knowledge must be guarded by the Diamond Door."

"I know you will think of something, Teacher."

So Areti persevered. He was only vaguely aware of S'arelmari's growing group of dedicated followers, preferring to work on his research alone. He was, after all, a Teacher, and so the studying of his pursuit helped him feel more at ease than addressing a column of allies in their defense of Lemuria.

But their time was growing short. In a matter of years, S'arelmari would be summoned for his next examination at the end of his cycle. And while Areti was confident the Elders would pass S'arelmari in spite of the interruption to his studies, he feared that they might learn something of the forbidden knowledge they had attained, or that Areti himself had divulged, and all might be lost.

"For if they learn that we know of their treachery, then they will cast us out before we can act," he said.

"Then we must ensure that we take them from the seats of power before they can examine me," S'arelmari said. "I do not know how much support we can raise in such a short time, but I know that we must try."

"Then, at least, even if they do cast us out, perhaps our questions will engender doubts in those who remain," Areti said, thinking. "And those doubts could allow our allies to continue in our place."

"While we prepare for the day that they open the gates of Lemuria to us anew, that we oversee the preservation of our own people and the downfall of those who would destroy us." S'arelmari grinned, his broad mouth revealing his many teeth. "That is, as you have taught me, the great danger of rebellion. It is like a wildfire, spreading with the wind, and very difficult to extinguish."

"Let our flames be mighty indeed," Areti said, thinking of the Krateros. "For we shall need all their power if we are to save Lemuria."

"Perhaps this is why I am what I am, then. For demonspawn are not harmed by fire."

Areti shook his head. "I am not so blessed, I fear." And he did fear, a very great deal. Not to die — not in the service of Lemuria. But to fail.

"I will protect you, my friend," S'arelmari promised. "In my shadow, no flame shall reach you, and we shall find victory."

Areti let out a breath and wrapped his heart in trust. S'arelmari was Destined for this, as was he. Together, they could defeat the Krateros and preserve Lemuria from all threats. Together, united, they were powerful indeed.

This must be why Destiny had brought them together. It was the only possibility.

-==OOO==-

Virgil battled through the myriad energies that swirled around him, biting into him and trying to drag him back.

It had been many thousands of years since he had interacted so directly with any magical forces; for the most part, he preferred to let Destiny play out as intended, and he was a middling sorcerer at best. He knew the theory, and even the techniques, but his own mystical gifts were thin and unreliable. To augment them, he had learned, took a type of power that led quickly to darkness, and after everything, he felt much more at ease not even approaching such.

But, for the sake of the Mighty One, he would dare this and far more.

The burn in the palm of his metaphysical body was like an ebb of flame, sending heat trailing up his arm. The Crystal of Souls, even as a fragment, was still potent. Fueled as it had been by the trapped souls of Atlantis, it bore the dark memory of the pain and torment of those locked within it, and if Virgil's concentration slipped for even an instant, he could hear the echoes of their cries swirling around him.

It was a great sacrilege to use those powers of darkness even for a noble purpose. But, as Virgil reasoned, he had little choice. And it was hardly the worst sacrilege he had ever perpetrated.

_I must not fail. I must reach the Mighty One before all his faith in me is undone._

Morgan le Fay's strength here was much greater than his own, however, and now that she was aware of his attempts to penetrate her control, she had erected powerful defenses against him. Virgil had surmised that she gained access to the Mighty One's mind through a similar energy conduit that linked the boy to Bran — which meant there was little he could do to disrupt it without risking the boy's safety, and possibly his sanity. Instead, he could only attack with what little power he could muster and hope it would be enough.

_For if I do not stop her, there is no telling the damage she could do to the Mighty One. If she can work magic through his very body, she already has greater influence over him than Skullmaster or Bran ever did._

And that thought chilled him to the bone. Mighty Max had barely survived his encounter with Skullmaster in Toyama, and it had taken extensive therapy and healing to return him to even some semblance of the boy he had been before. What harm would Morgan do, what suffering would she cause by such a greater violation?

_How much more can the boy withstand?_

That fear almost dislodged him from his aim, a distraction he could not afford. While he was afraid for himself, for what Morgan le Fay might reveal to the Mighty One, for what it might cost him in his relationship with the boy, these fears could be managed.

As long as the Mighty One was alive and well to hate him, Virgil could endure that.

But if Morgan le Fay fractured his mind, if she rent that which was both so very strong and so very fragile, if she broke the boy's spirit when even Skullmaster had failed…

_Then it will all have been for nothing._

_And I will lose the most important thing left to me in all the world._

Grief threatened to swamp him, but Virgil forced his emotions down and brought his mind back to order.

_It cannot happen._

_I will not let it happen._

_Even if it costs me my life, my mind, and the Mighty One's trust, I'll save him._

_No matter the consequences._

But that, of course, was the whole problem.

-==OOO==-

In the short years since Areti and S'arelmari had discovered the plot against Lemuria, everything had changed. Rather than facing their desperation alone, now there were dozens of active supporters and scores of those who knew of their work at least obliquely and had provided assistance. S'arelmari had already begun to master the forbidden knowledge beyond the Black Door, taking to trickery and deceit with an ease that would have alarmed Areti previously; now it reassured him.

They had even managed one trip into the Diamond chamber, only for a single night, but enough to gain more knowledge about the Krateros and his part to play in the destiny of Lemuria.

"But there is no time!" Areti fumed, pacing back and forth within their home. "There are only two more years and two seasons before you will be examined at the end of your cycle. We have come far, but we will not be ready so quickly."

"You fear we will be discovered?"

"It's possible." Areti regarded his student. "The Elders and the Eldest are clever, far cleverer than we, and they see far more. Something we may not even consider could be our undoing."

"Then," S'arelmari said, "we must remove them from power before they examine me."

"By my calculations, we need a decade, perhaps two, before we will sway enough of Lemuria to prevent an uprising against us," Areti said. "We will do our people additional harm if we force them to attack us while we act to protect them."

"Then we can only hope to act without consensus, and gain it later when we explain all."

"Yes, of course, but if we act with only the support we have now, or that we may attain in the next two years, we will be hopelessly outnumbered." Areti shut his eyes. "The people of Lemuria will see an attack, an attempted takeover, and they will resist us before we can illuminate them."

"Then perhaps..." But S'arelmari trailed off.

Areti looked up at his student, and saw an idea brewing in the dark eyes. "Perhaps?"

"It...it is an audacious thought, my friend."

"Audacious is all we have left to ourselves, I believe," Areti said. "Tell me, please."

"If we cannot act with the support of the people, then we must find a way to ensure their compliance — at least until we inform them of our true purpose."

Areti frowned, listening.

"Therefore, when we act against the Elders, we must do so in a way which discourages resistance." S'arelmari's hands clenched. "We must...it is regrettable, but inevitable...we must attack with so much force and power, the people of Lemuria do not dare to cross us."

"S'arelmari, that — "

"It would only be to protect them," S'arelmari said quickly. "Not to hurt anyone. But to dissuade them from any action. To make any possible move against us unfathomable. If we can overpower the people of Lemuria so completely that they do not fight us, then we will not have to fight them in their own defense."

Areti's heart quaked, but he found himself nodding. "I cannot fault your logic, though it is reprehensible. To turn such power against our own people…"

"Not in truth," S'arelmari said. "Only to threaten. You and I would know we meant no harm, and that such threats were never to be fulfilled. But it would hold them enough that they could be brought to understanding with minimal blood shed."

"I see your reasoning. But where would we get such power?"

S'arelmari regarded his Teacher. "I believe, my friend, that you must answer that. My knowledge is incomplete. I cannot hope to locate something of this kind, not without a great deal more studying and trust by the Elders."

Areti let out a breath and nodded, his shoulders falling in shame and defeat. "You are correct. In the course of my studies, even now, I have come upon many references to great powers like that of which you speak."

"Then choose one," S'arelmari said. "The most iconic and devastating you can lay hands upon in time. The greater its renown, the more the people of Lemuria will bow before it and thus be spared."

"But the consequences of seeking such power, and of using it…" Areti had already surrendered to his student's logic, but guilt still gnawed at his mind. "Even though we are in the right, even though we act for the best of all, we may still lose our people. Even using such power in defense of Lemuria, we may yet be cast out and despised and feared."

"But for the sake of Lemuria, we must proceed anyway," S'arelmari said. "No matter the consequences. You would give your life for our people, as would I. We must be willing to risk everything imaginable to protect Lemuria from destruction."

"Very well." Areti drew in a deep breath. "I will adjust my aim and choose for us a power, a weapon great enough that we shall never need to use it. Perhaps the Arcana, or something connected with the Krateros himself."

"I trust in your choice, Teacher," S'arelmari said.

A season later, Areti arranged to show S'arelmari the Arcana. The student was not permitted to touch it, nor study with it, but Areti managed to copy all its essentials in secret, so that S'arelmari would be prepared to master it when the time finally arrived.

-==OOO==-

It was a year before their plans must come to fruition or all would be lost. Areti and S'arelmari had grown their supporters immensely, and both were also as well-versed as possible in the Arcana's powers. Time was short, but they worked diligently, ever so much more than they ever had on simple lessons and teachings.

Areti had split his attention between the Arcana and continuing to investigate the matter of the Krateros, trying to uncover how, exactly, the legendary hero would destroy Lemuria and himself and S'arelmari. At last a reference to a nearly-forgotten text had guided him to new information, and he rushed to tell S'arelmari about it.

"I have it!" Areti burst into the private space in which S'arelmari was pretending to study — in reality, he was coordinating their forces for the day of truth. "I have it!"

"Have what, Teacher?"

"I know how to prevent the rise of the Krateros, at least for a time. It should give us an advantage when he eventually does enter the world." Areti was flushed with victory — here, at last, they could thwart the final and most dangerous threat to Lemuria!

"Oh? How? And when?" S'arelmari asked.

"Ten thousand years from now, the Krateros will rise from one of those human peoples — and I do hope they are more civilized by then. He is positioned by Destiny to wield great power, and to be a defender of humanity. However, his path is very tenuous. I believe, if we make use of the Arcana when we hold it a year from now, we can strip his powers."

"How do you mean?"

"A human hero will still be born, and will still take on challenges and such — he would be one of many, probably. But if we change the course of magic in the world, the correct forces will not coalesce at his birth. He will be born, but not born the Krateros."

"And then we can easily defeat him," S'arelmari said.

"Yes. However," Areti said, "doing so will almost certainly guarantee the rise of the Krateros much later — fifteen thousand years from now. And when that time comes, he will be very powerful indeed."

"But by slowing him down, we stand a chance of mustering great enough forces to subdue him," S'arelmari said. "Or, better yet, to kill him as a babe in arms before he can even strike at us."

Areti flinched.

"My friend." S'arelmari's voice was soothing. "I know it troubles you to contemplate ending the life of an innocent. But remember — the Krateros is not innocent. He will be a murderer, and he will be the end of all that is Lemuria. He is a monster, a demon far worse than the Anathema Hallusko who comprise my own lineage. We must be prepared to kill him the instant we have the opportunity. There is no other hope for Lemuria, and no other hope for us."

Areti swallowed. "But, to kill a child?"

"To save me?" S'arelmari asked gently. "My Teacher, would you kill a monster, even as an infant, to spare my life. For if we do not, then not only will Lemuria fall, but we shall perish also."

"I know." Areti reached out and laid a feathered hand on S'arelmari's arm. "You are right. For your sake, you who are my student and friend and the nearest thing I may ever have to a true companion, I would take the life of a monster. No matter how small or young."

"Then let us vow here and now." S'arelmari held out a hand. "No matter what happens in a year, no matter if we succeed or fail. We will delay the Krateros for fifteen thousand years. And when he is born, one of us will kill him. For Lemuria, and for each other. And then you and I will be able to live our eternity in peace."

Areti grasped the hand and held it.

"For Lemuria, and for you, my student. My friend. For all that is good, when the Krateros rises, I will help you kill him."


	7. White as a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I had a rough patch this month with my illness and it made all manner of typing tough – I had to save my dexterity for work and take a break from posting. So, to make up for it, here's all the chapters I've missed.
> 
> So, here we go! Enjoy!

Max erupted out of the vision and fell to his knees, heaving for breath.

"Okay, this is a lot less fun now." He coughed, even though he could tell he was still in his head where he shouldn't need to cough. "Seriously, who knew that flashbacks could feel that real?"

The joking was pure reflex — it took another moment for his thoughts to fully marshal themselves into some kind of order.

"Chosen One?"

"Morg!" Max started to stand, assisted by a pale hand that appeared beside him. "How did you...I mean, was that really…?"

"It is the truth." Her eyes were sad, but steady. "Just as my own teacher betrayed me, so did yours."

"Technically, he un-betrayed me, too," Max said. "I mean, obviously he turned against Skullmaster, and he didn't kill me as a baby, so..."

Then Max stopped. Blinked. And glared at her.

"Stop it."

She tipped her head.

"You're doing that thing with my feelings again. Stop it right now."

"I thought you would be distressed by this information."

"Well, I won't know if I'm distressed or not if you keep me from feeling it for myself!" he snapped. "Stop it right this minute, Morgan!"

"Very well."

And Max's grief hit him hard enough to make him double over as if punched.

"He lied to me. He was always lying to me. He and Skullmaster were going to _kill_ me." His breath came fast and panicked. "He didn't tell me any of it, even when he promised!"

Morgan reached over and put an arm across his shoulders, straightening him up and folding him against her shoulder. "I am sorry, Chosen One."

"I trusted him!" Max felt tears start to fall. "He promised no more secrets and I trusted him!"

"But you cannot be so surprised," she said softly. "Skullmaster promised not to harm Virgil at Stonehenge, but killed him in front of you thereafter. The student learns from the teacher, after all. And now you cannot but see that all of Skullmaster's evil was born from Virgil's own teachings."

Max wanted to argue, he really did, but he couldn't. Though he couldn't have reproduced what he'd seen because it faded as quickly as it appeared, he had experienced every lesson Virgil ever gave to Skullmaster, including powers he had seen Skullmaster use in person. He had seen the lessons Virgil gave Skullmaster regarding the Arcana.

"He promised no secrets _twice_ ," Max said, breathing a little faster, "and he lied both times."

"I think," and there was far more sympathy in her voice than triumph, "that he cannot help it. It may be his nature, Chosen One. To live in secrecy, and to protect himself from harmful truths even at the cost of others."

"The whole Lemurian thing is like that!" Max shook his head. "They keep secrets and they care about prophecies and how it's all _supposed_ to turn out, and they...nobody thinks about whether or not any of it is a good idea!"

"They are blinded, I fear. So certain of their superiority, their vast intelligence, their mastery, that they believe themselves to be infallible." And old fury crept into her tone. "And we are the ones who must pay for their pride."

Max cried harder, as much because he was angry as because he was hurt. Didn't Virgil care about him at all?

"Not enough," Morgan whispered. "Not enough to treat you with the honor you deserve."

"Did you know?" Max wiped at his nose. "Did you know this the whole time, too?"

"No," she said, and he believed her. "I knew he had betrayed me, but not how badly he had betrayed you as well. Not until I looked into his mind for it."

"Would you have told me, if you'd known?"

"Yes." And she tightened her hold on him. "Without hesitation, Chosen One. For you deserve the truth."

He nodded and let her hold him, miserable and full of doubt. After everything, after Stonehenge, after Mount Ararat, after Toyama — how could Virgil have kept this from him? It wasn't enough to say that he was Skullmaster's teacher once. That was like saying they'd bumped into one another on the street back in the day. Virgil had sworn an oath to Skullmaster to kill Max. Worse, Virgil had been the reason Max was ever the Mighty One in the first place.

Max sucked in a breath as his thoughts tumbled free.

_That means Virgil is the reason Maximus died._

_He did something with Skullmaster, so when Maximus fought him after Atlantis, he wasn't the Mighty One. He was the first Cap-Bearer, but not the Mighty One. And that's why he died._

_Virgil set Maximus up to die._

_But he was there, and he told me he tried to save him._

_Did he ever tell Maximus that it was his fault?_

"No," Morgan said, reading his thoughts easily. "Virgil's guilt made him mute as he has been with you. The first Cap-Bearer died not knowing why he did not possess the power to defeat Skullmaster."

"How...how can he be so wrong about everything?" Max shut his eyes. "He was...he told me he was supposed to teach me how to be a hero."

"He can only teach that which he knows. And what he knows is manipulation and secrecy and arrogance." Morgan rubbed his back. "That you have endured so well with such a viper at your side is only due to your own courage and noble heart."

"He's done good things, too," Max protested, even though he didn't really know why he was bothering to stick up for Virgil right now. "He helped me every time I was in danger. He put himself at risk to try to protect me. He even offered to take the Cap back after Toyama."

"But can you be certain such an offer was meant genuinely? Or was it yet another trick to ensure your compliance and your loyalty?"

"No...no, it can't be that. He wouldn't."

"Chosen One, you now cannot but know that he has done far worse when he believed his cause was just." Suddenly she stiffened. "And still he continues to invoke evil."

With her alarm, Max forced himself to ignore his feelings — and then he could sense it as well, the coldness that had preceded Virgil's use of the shard of the Crystal of Souls from before.

"He's coming back?"

"He is persistent," Morgan said. She released Max from her arms and moved to stand beside him. "Have no fear. He will not harm you further."

Max gulped at the lump in his throat and tried to brace himself. His heart was a mess, but he needed to focus. Now more than ever, he needed his own feelings to be true and clear. What else could he really trust?

"You can trust me, Chosen One."

"I know." And there was a new sorrow in him. "But you have every reason to hate Virgil. Like how Bran hates Norman. And I can't just assume you're right about that. Bran wasn't."

"I am hardly as pigheaded or selfish as _Bran_."

Max managed to chuckle. "Yeah, you two are going to get along just _great_ if you ever get to meet him for real."

Morgan had no time to reply because the hazy shape of Virgil was emerging from the shadows.

Max shivered. "Okay, still using that evil magic? Not cool, Virg!" he yelled.

"Mighty One!"

As if Max's acknowledgement made it easier for him to reach them, and likely it did, Virgil solidified before them. He seemed momentarily startled to have succeeded in returning, but quickly took a few steps forward.

"Mighty One, whatever Morgan has told you, you must believe that…" But he stopped at the wet and crestfallen expression of the boy before him.

"I have not merely told him," Morgan said, looking down her nose at him. "I showed him. Every thought, every memory. Your time with your student who has become the boy's nightmare. He has witnessed it all through your very eyes."

Virgil drew himself up to hide the shudder that ran through him. "Then, Mighty One, you know that I did not sanction all that Skullmaster did."

"No." Max shook his head. "What I know is that you didn't tell me about any of it. About how I was prophesied to destroy Lemuria, and how you and S'arelmari agreed to kill me. About how you made it so I was the Mighty One instead of Maximus, and he died."

"It is true that I did not tell you." Virgil swallowed. "I wished to protect you."

Morgan snarled. "You wished to defend yourself from pain, from the righteous anger of the Chosen One whose trust you so badly abused!"

"Do not confuse my motivations for those of Merlin!" Virgil shot back. "Whatever he did to you, he did because he believed you were at fault. What I did was meant to protect the Mighty One."

Morgan reared back, offended, but Max spoke first.

"Protect me from _what_?" Max crossed his arms. "Virg, every time you keep something from me, it just makes everything worse! You know that! And you _promised_ not to do it again!"

Virgil flinched. "I did. You are correct. And I…"

"You are not sorry," Morgan said. "You would do it again. Do not continue to lie to him, not now that I can hear the truth in your very mind."

"I would thank you to stay out of my mind!" Virgil's face contorted in anger. "What I have done is between myself and the Mighty One. You only seek to sow dissent between us, and I will not let you do it! I will not let you hurt him any longer."

"I am not the one hurting him, Virgil," she said. "You are. I only gave him truth."

"Stop." Max took a step forward. "Morg, I know you're trying to protect me, but let him talk." He turned his eyes back to Virgil. "Tell me, then. Tell me you didn't lie to me."

"Mighty One." Virgil sighed, deflating before the accusing eyes of the Cap-Bearer. "You...you have been through so much. I...I didn't want to bring you any further pain."

"And you thought not telling me the truth was better than keeping a promise?"

"I thought that...that I would have more time. I did warn you that the story of Lemuria was difficult for me."

"Yeah, I can see why." Max waved his arms. "You were helping Skullmaster take it over!"

Virgil's eyes widened, then he focused on Morgan. "You did not finish."

She looked away.

Max spun back to Morgan. "He's right — it cut off in the middle. So, how's it end? I'm assuming it's not too pretty."

"Mighty One." Virgil moved closer to his boy. "I know you are hurt. I know I have done you a great disservice and I have caused you to doubt in me." He forced himself to continue around a cold weight in his chest that seemed to steal his very breath. "But I ask you not to put your trust in Morgan le Fay in my stead. Morgan's powers are unstable. She could harm you. Already your body lies unconscious and weak. If she continues to use her magic in your mind, she may do irrevocable damage."

Max's eyebrows went up. "Morg?"

"I have not and will not harm you, Chosen One," she said. "Virgil mistrusts my powers because they show truth and do not answer to him. He denies you your right to your own history and legacy, hiding behind a perceived threat from me. But he should remember that we are in your mind, and it is you who holds the power here. I can do nothing without your assistance."

Max frowned. "I'm not so sure about that. You did almost blow up the living room."

"That was an expenditure of your own energy, merely utilizing my skill as a focus. It was meant to frighten them, to make them feel some small measure of what I have suffered for so long. Nothing more."

"Uh." Max shook his head. "I don't have that kind of power, Morg."

"Of course you do. Energy is energy, Chosen One. I may be able to grant you the ability to shape it, but I cannot call it into being. How else did you believe you worked magic with my instruction?"

"Okay, now I'm really confused, but none of that helps with the problem we have right now." Max planted his hands on his hips. "Morgan le Fay, if I let you show me the rest of Virgil's past, will it hurt me at all or have any lasting impact on me or my body?"

"No," she said. "Other than to impart unto you the knowledge."

"Will it hurt Virgil? You're not, like, sucking stuff out of his brain?"

"I am not."

"Mighty One…" Virgil began.

"I believe her," Max interrupted. "I believe her and I have a right to know, Virg. And if you won't tell me this stuff about my own destiny and the prophecy and Skullmaster, then you need to let her do her thing."

"I...very well." But Virgil looked away. "If you are decided upon this course, then I will not attempt to dissuade you. But...Mighty One. I ask…"

Max could count on both hands how many times in the last few years he had heard Virgil sound so sad, so unsure, so defeated.

"Ask what?"

"Do not...do not judge me for my past actions too harshly until you know all. I deserve your anger for deceiving you. But I...I have changed quite radically in fifteen thousand years, Mighty One. For the sake of all we have experienced together, give me the chance to show you that I have grown, that I am not the one who made such grievous errors in my youth."

"You ask him not to judge you, and yet you judge me," Morgan said. "You are — "

But Max cut her off before she could dig up the insults he felt brewing in her feelings. "She's right about that, Virg. But maybe let's take this one thing at a time. You lied to me. Now I want the whole story. The truth. And then we'll see how I feel about everything else. Okay?"

Virgil nodded, shutting his eyes. "As you wish."

Morgan shook her head. "I believe this to be unnecessary, as your guilt is clear. You are not fit to be the teacher of the Chosen One. But I will obey him in this. Let your own actions speak for themselves, then."

Max thought perhaps he felt Virgil take his hand just as everything vanished and the past rose within him again.

-==OOO==-

Mighty Max's body disappeared from his mindscape as he succumbed to Morgan's power, leaving Virgil grasping nothing.

He looked up into her disdainful face. "Whatever your feelings towards me, Morgan le Fay, we both have an interest in the wellbeing of the Mighty One."

"Do we?" she asked. "I am not yet so certain."

Virgil scowled. "Your anger has blinded you. I am not Merlin. And what he did, he must have done for good reason."

" _Whose_ reason, Virgil?" she shot back. "For what possible _good_? Or are you threatened as he was, threatened by my power — a power you neither understand nor control?"

"I will admit, Merlin had his own limitations. His refusal to fully accept you based upon the prejudices of his time certainly did not recommend him." Virgil crossed his arms and faced her. "But you did scorn prophecy — constantly."

"How typical." She tossed her head. "You would rather abide by precepts set down thousands of years ago than act to save lives that can be saved. That is cowardice of the highest order."

"Is it?" Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You have seen the Mighty One's memories, have you not?"

"I have."

"Then you know the choice he was forced to make in Toyama."

Even Morgan flinched, the power of Max's remembered pain and trauma written on her face.

"He chose to refuse Skullmaster," Virgil powered on, unwilling to back down even as he spoke about events which haunted him still. "He chose to keep his soul intact rather than surrender it to Skullmaster's Crystal. Even though it cost lives. But that choice saved billions more. It will, ultimately, save the very world."

"And that makes it right?" Morgan yelled. "The scales balance on the number of lives, then? To let one die, or a hundred, is nothing to a billion?"

"In this case, yes."

"Then you, too, care for nothing and no one." She recoiled, then paused, and a dark smile bloomed on her face. "And yet — still you lie. To me as well as yourself."

Virgil swallowed.

"If you will not admit it, at least accept that we both know better. You may speak of prophecy, of the fate of the world outweighing a few lives. But we both know you would trade those billion to save the Chosen One. We both know your heart does not see those numbers so clearly when it is he upon the scale."

To Virgil's surprise, Morgan turned around, putting her back to him.

"You men. You and Merlin and Arthur. All you care for is your own power, your own command over the world, be it armies or kingdoms or fate itself. Arthur subjugated my people and many others, and why? Because Merlin told him he was destined to rule England. Merlin bound me and my power, kept me from my heart's only desire, because of some prophecy."

"I did not tell him to do that," Virgil said carefully. "I would never have asked you to sacrifice — "

"It was no sacrifice! It was _slaughter_!"

Virgil dared not take a step nearer to her, though he could see that her shoulders were up and her head was down. It was a posture he had seen in the Mighty One, too — when battling sorrow and guilt and loss and the pain that raged within.

"It will not help you to know that all happened as was needed," Virgil said. "But if it is any consolation to you, any at all, she did not die alone."

"I know. But you do not even know her last breath, her words. You cannot give me even that much."

"I cannot." And his heart was heavy. "Not while you remain trapped."

"The Chosen One has vowed to free me," Morgan said. "He has been a friend, better than any I ever knew, save one. He will try, Virgil, and he will succeed. And then I will finally know."

"Yes," Virgil said. "I suppose we both will."

"I can see that Merlin kept secrets even from you," Morgan said, her head rising again, though she did not turn back. "As did your evil pupil. For a being who prides himself on knowing everything, you certainly do prove ignorant when it comes to that which is most critical."

"Sometimes, Morgan, knowledge is too dangerous. Even that which one would wish to possess only for good purposes can lead one to make mistakes. Sometimes it is better to trust something outside oneself."

"Well." She looked over her shoulder at him, grey eyes flashing. "Do not believe that I shall ever trust _you_. The Chosen One's heart is gravely hurt by your lies, and yet he weighs your words as though they had meaning. I shall not do the same."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Virgil said. "It is my hope that the Mighty One may rightly trust in us both."

"You would not seek to cast me out like a possessing demon?"

Virgil did not let himself smile at her surprise. "No. I do not know precisely why this has come about, but it must be a part of the Mighty One's Destiny, and I am willing to trust in that. But even without destiny, the boy has a keen insight into the hearts of those around him. If he has deemed you a friend, then I must believe he has good reason."

Then Virgil drew a conclusion of his own.

"You have not told him, have you?"

"Told him what?"

"You have laid bare my own failings, but he knows nothing of your own history." Virgil shook his head. "Who is the hypocrite now, Morgan?"

"My past and my pain have nothing to do with the Chosen One," she said, drawing herself up. "Should they become relevant, then I shall reveal all. Until then, there is no reason to expose him to such knowledge. I do not need or want his pity."

"I wonder if that's really true," Virgil said more to himself than her.

-==OOO==-

The day had arrived at last. In the morning, S'arelmari was to be examined by the Elders for the conclusion of his cycle. The pre-dawn sky was dark, but clear of clouds, and the winds over the city were soft and warm.

Areti drew his robes more tightly around himself.

"Afraid, my friend?"

Areti turned and shook his head. "No. Not exactly. But I cannot help but regret all that is to occur. So much fear and disruption could have been avoided."

"But our Elders have betrayed us," S'arelmari said. "And we cannot permit them to destroy Lemuria, to desecrate her Wisdom. We are charged with the protection of our people. We cannot falter now."

"Of course." Areti knew that as well as his student. "If only it had not come to this."

"And yet, that it has can only be Destiny." S'arelmari put a hand on Areti's shoulder. "Have faith, Teacher. You and I were born for greatness, and today is the day we live that promise. By the time night falls, Lemuria's lasting safety will have been ensured, and our names will be inscribed in the Four Thousand Epos as the truest heroes of all time."

"You are right, of course." Areti drew himself up. "Very well. Then let us begin."

Together, they made their way to the library, joined in the streets by others who were trusted members of their force. The library was quiet, few if any scholars studying so late or so early into the day. With his head up proudly, Areti opened Door after Door, Teachers and students following in his wake regardless of their cycles.

It was Areti who led the way through the library to the resting place of the Arcana and lifted it from its pedestal. Holding it in one hand, he turned back to the assembled group.

"What I do, I do for all of Lemuria. For the Krateros is Destined to be our doom. And while that which is written must come to pass, I choose now to put us all upon a path that leads us to where the Krateros will be most vulnerable and easy to defeat. In doing so, I shall preserve our people and all our lives."

Areti turned to the appropriate page and gazed at the symbol of the Moon one last time.

"For Lemuria!" S'arelmari cried out, the others raising their voices as well.

Areti pressed his palm upon the symbol and ignited the Moon power.

"That which is changeable, let it be changed! Let the dark of the Moon fall and its light be delayed!"

The brilliant energy burst from Areti's body and soared upwards, through the vaulted ceiling and into the sky. As it drained away, Areti's legs faltered.

"I have you, my friend." S'arelmari caught Areti and took the Arcana from his shaking hands. "Now there is but one power within the Arcana we need ever fear, and as long as we hold it, we hold the entirety of Lemuria safely in our hands."

"They will be aware of what we have done," Areti said, his voice thin with exertion. "We must move quickly."

"Indeed." S'arelmari gestured to his assembled followers. "Go! The others will already be in position. Ensure that the Elders and the Eldest do not escape us!"

The crowd departed at once.

"I am sorry," Areti said, still leaning on S'arelmari. "I did not expect that the use of the Arcana would leave me so weakened."

"It is understandable. It is a very great power, and you have just rewritten a portion of Destiny with it. That you remain conscious is admirable enough."

"But you cannot linger here." Areti looked up into S'arelmari's dark eyes. "Your strength is needed to ensure our victory. If you continue to coddle me whilst I recover, it can only lead to disaster."

"If you are certain of your own wellbeing, then I shall go and aid our brothers in arms. But I would rather not risk your safety at this juncture. We have much to do, and I will need your help, my Teacher."

"Go," Areti said, putting strength in his words. "Go forth and protect Lemuria. I shall follow you as soon as I can."

S'arelmari carefully eased Areti so that he could sit leaning against the pedestal that had held the Arcana. Tucking the tome safely within his robes, S'arelmari spared an instant to smile at his teacher before he strode away, shoulders up and proud.

Areti sighed. He had never felt so tired and drained before in his life. Even the grief of the Elders' betrayal had not been so violent.

_But if this is the price for our lives and the safety of Lemuria, I would gladly pay it a thousand times._

Areti heard a sound suddenly and pushed to look around the pedestal. "S'arelmari?"

But the shape that emerged from shadow was taller even than his student. Areti's eyes widened in alarm.

"Eldest!"

The Eldest's face was cast in shadow, and Areti could only make out the glitter of his eyes reflected by the dim lights of the chamber.

"You...you are too late," Areti said, lifting his beak in defiance. "We know of your nefarious plot to destroy all of Lemuria. Already we have delayed the rise of the Krateros. Even now, our allies are moving against you and the other Elders."

The Eldest regarded him silently.

Areti felt awkward, and raised his voice even further. "Do with me as you will. It is over. You will be cast out, and Lemuria will be preserved. My life is nothing to that cause."

The Eldest said nothing.

"Well?" Areti's nervousness burst out as impatience. "Say something! Or are you too afraid to answer the charges against you?"

Finally the Eldest moved, slowly stepping closer to Areti. The Teacher scrambled to pull himself upright, but his limbs had no strength and he slid back to the floor just as the Eldest reached him.

Areti looked up into the face of the one he had admired for so long, the one who had guided Lemuria since the beginning.

"Tears?" he scoffed. "You are a coward indeed if you cry now that you are found out."

The Eldest bent low over Areti. His face was indeed wet, and his eyes shone with grief.

"Every person has a gift," he said softly, "and in that gift lies their Destiny. For all you have done, I forgive you. What must be, will be."

Before Areti could reply, the Eldest straightened up and exited the chamber.

Areti drew in a breath, and found warmth spreading through him.

_Even the Eldest has acknowledged it. We are heroes, and S'arelmari and I have truly done as we were Destined to do. And now Lemuria will be safe for all time and the Krateros can be destroyed!_

But the victory felt hollow somehow.


	8. Keys to the Gulag

Norman was pacing because sitting still might kill him.

The Mighty One had been down for the better part of three hours after that explosion of power. Virgil had been in his second trance for almost as much time.

What could be taking so long? Wasn't stuff that happened inside somebody's head supposed to go _faster_?

He had to unclench his jaw and take a breath through his nose.

The longer this went, the worse his gut felt about the whole mess. It was bad enough that someone was inside the Mighty One's head. Worse that it was Morgan le Fay, whom he remembered all too well. She had always reminded him of a lightning storm — powerful, impossible to contain, devastating, and yet he could only respect that much force and will bound up together. But, then, Norman had also known her when she had something that eased the roughness of her edges, a target for her wildest energies, a grounding force and anchor.

He had never seen the true depths of her anger, though. By the time she was angry, it was already too late.

But that anger was what Virgil feared. He had always been closer to Merlin (as close as Virgil ever got to anyone not the Mighty One), whom Norman avoided whenever possible. He had learned to get along with Virgil — by the time of Arthur and everything, he did not have the patience to train another know-it-all, let alone a know-it-all wizard. And Merlin, apparently, had not held back in his criticism of his apprentice and student and sometimes-rival. Whatever Merlin had said to Virgil back then, it had colored Virgil's perception of Morgan ever after.

Which was why, of course, Norman had made the decision he did. He was loyal to Virgil, but some things were personal. Some things were private. And some things had never been his to tell.

Besides, Virgil would have scolded him. Which, of course, the Viking was perfectly happy to ignore, but still. Life had been hectic then, and difficult for them all, and upsetting Virgil had seemed like a waste of energy for both of them. So Norman simply held his tongue and let Virgil lead him back out of his Lancelot fame into obscurity.

Right now, Norman was both grateful that Virgil didn't know something, and worried that it might have helped. But there was no way to know. Morgan was so angry at Virgil, and he feared she would hurt the Mighty One. Introducing a new variable, an unknown, could end badly.

And Norman _was not there to help_.

He reversed his pacing for a while, making a circuit around the room instead of just back and forth at the foot of the bed. On the next pass, he leaned over Virgil's chair.

"Help him, Virgil. Protect him. But don't judge her too harshly, either. Your past has become her weapon. Don't turn hers into yours. She doesn't deserve that, especially from you."

Then he glanced at his boy.

But he didn't need to give the Mighty One any words of encouragement. Norman trusted him to be the truest of heroes, the one with the clearest sight and the heart that was steady.

If anyone could navigate the pitfalls between the stubborn pair and come out safe, it was the Mighty One.

Norman couldn't let himself believe anything else.

But that didn't stop him from worrying.

-==OOO==-

By the time Areti had recovered enough to move under his own power, disturbing sounds were penetrating the thick walls all around him even so deep in the library. He hobbled laboriously as he passed through each of the Doors, flinching at the sounds of shouting and clashing that only grew with every step he took.

Areti emerged into the morning sunlight and into a battle.

For all that Areti had lived his entire life in the Lemurian capital, he had rarely understood just how many people lived within its circles. His time had been spent first in study, then teaching, so he had rarely wandered the other parts of the city. Now he saw what must be the full populace, surging in a massive crowd down every street and clustered in every garden — fighting as if for their lives.

There were the Lemurian warriors, of course, but these were few as Lemuria had no need for guards or soldiers. Now and again, a person might be called from birth to the way of battle, but only ever a handful. Most preferred to study, or to live in other peaceful ways. Those few warriors — Areti did not know a single one of their names, nor had he ever cared to — appeared to be making a stand near where the Elders would normally have been gathering for their day of work administering the whole of Lemuria and examining any students whose cycle had come. S'arelmari and his forces were clashing with them, trying to fight through the stalwart defense.

But so many others were gathered as well. Farmers, weavers, bookmakers, musicians, healers — they swarmed the city's heart, sticks and tools and kitchen utensils in their hands. Areti could see where his allies were holding key points, places where walls and gates made passage difficult, strategically arrayed for maximum effectiveness against overwhelming odds. And fighting at the head of them, turning aside citizens and keeping their small force organized, focused, and inspired, was S'arelmari. Even as the sight sickened him, Areti felt a flush of pride.

His student was a hero. And soon enough, all of Lemuria would know it, and would hold them both up in the highest esteem.

Areti shook himself and made his way to the nearest of his allies, a small group dedicated to defending the library.

"What has transpired?" he asked.

The nearest turned to him and gave a short nod. "People gathered in the aftermath of your spell, and we told them the truth. A few believed us, but most didn't. It turned into a shouting match and then people started to bring weapons."

Areti sighed. "Their loyalty is admirable, but misplaced. What is the plan?"

"We're to hold them off until we can break through to the Elders, assuming they don't settle down first. Then we'll get the Elders to prove that we are not the ones who deserve their anger."

"Fair enough. What can I do to help?"

"Nothing. S'arelmari wants you out of sight and protected."

Areti was surprised. "That was not in what we discussed."

"I know. He told us after. He said that working the magic could leave you weak and vulnerable for days, and more than anyone, he needs you well. He also said that it would help our cause if there was one of us who wasn't seen fighting. Then, when the Elders lose support, there will be someone from our side who can appear more neutral and guide the rest of the people to us."

Areti considered. There might well be value in having someone who was not obviously part of the overthrowing force take the part of S'arelmari once the truth was known. It could ease tensions across Lemuria and open the way for others to accept that this unfortunate act was in fact in defense of the people and not contrary to them.

And he did feel rather exhausted still.

"Very well. What did S'arelmari suggest?"

"Remain here in the library. If you are willing, lock yourself in the secret chamber where no one else can reach you. We will join up with the others. S'arelmari will send for you when we're ready."

Areti was about to agree when a cold sense of foreboding wrapped around his heart.

And yet, this was logical. And he was no warrior, nor was he the sort who could command the people by his presence and his words. He was a Teacher. His place was not at the head of the revolution, but in its shadows, laying the foundation for a better future.

Perhaps he was still suffering the after-effects of the spell. Such would explain why his heart pounded and his hands shook.

He drew in a deep breath. "Very well. Then I wish you luck."

He turned and re-entered the library, never looking back. As he retreated through the many Doors, the sounds of fighting became more faint, and he closed his ears to them.

It was not until he stood upon the pedestal descending into the Diamond chamber that he recognized a feeling of wetness upon the feathers of his face. But he closed his heart as he had closed his ears, refusing to let weakness and regret for what should never have been keep him from his Destiny.

Areti could not, however, focus upon study even in this most secret and significant of chambers. Words swam before his eyes, and his mind felt numb when he tried to consider them. Instead, he found a soft bench and permitted himself to curl up upon it, weariness causing his tears to come faster than before.

In the silence of the Diamond chamber, Areti fell asleep, trusting the world outside to his student.

-==OOO==-

Areti had no concept of how long he spent in the Diamond chamber. After his sleep, which refreshed him immensely, he bent to his studies with a will, eagerly reading as many of the forbidden and sacred tomes as he could. The Wisdom of Lemuria was all here, and he was determined to preserve it all within himself so that nothing would be held back from the people when he was called to speak. His body told him it must have been days, but he was well used to fasting while in contemplation, so he was not at all bothered.

But, at last, the pedestal rose from the floor to retrieve another, and S'arelmari himself stood upon it when it returned to the chamber.

"How are you, my friend?" he asked at once, striding across the floor with his long legs to where Areti was ensconced amidst a veritable mountain of books and scrolls.

"I have not been idle," Areti said. "Tell me, what news of the world above?"

"It has been a...difficult time," S'arelmari said. He found a seat nearby and sank into it heavily. "The Elders resisted with all their strength, and the people of the city assisted them. In the end, several injuries from the conflicts became fatal."

Areti gasped.

"Only two days ago, we managed to break through the defenses and took the Elders into custody, along with many of their fiercest supporters. There were so many, we were forced to turn several buildings into secure places we could detain them safely. But there was so much unrest amongst the people, and others from outside the city began arriving…"

"What is it?"

"I...had no choice." S'arelmari looked away, not meeting his Teacher's eyes. "I was afraid that the violence would only increase, and if we were driven out, there would be no hope for Lemuria's future. I had to stop the conflict. I had to."

Areti moved before he realized he was doing so, crossing the space between them and putting a feathered hand on his student's shoulder. "What we do, we do for Lemuria. Tell me without fear."

"When the people were distracted, I had our allies travel the city. We gathered all the children we could find and collected them in a building under our control. With such hostages, the people ceased their resistance. It has damaged us in their eyes, but it has quelled the uproar."

"You...you stole their children?"

"They left me no choice!" S'arelmari shouted, clenching his white hands into fists. "They would not _listen_! And our forces were tired of fighting and beginning to doubt! I had to do something or all would be lost!"

Areti found himself swallowing bile and fear. There was something in the light of S'arelmari's eyes that unsettled him, deeply. And yet, he reminded himself that his student had seen horrors while he remained in seclusion. S'arelmari had seen death, perhaps had made the very blows that took lives. He was no longer the innocent student reviled for his heritage — now he had touched blood like any other demonspawn. He must be suffering greatly.

Areti forced his body to calm, his stomach to unclench.

"It is not ideal," he said, "but I trust that you have done your best. That will have to be enough."

S'arelmari looked at him, and now the smile was true. "With you at my side, I am certain that it will be."

"Then, let us go together. We must restore peace and regain the trust of the people, or Lemuria will fall just as surely. But, without the Elders or the Eldest to speak against us, we can reveal the truth. The people will listen."

S'arelmari nodded, but let out a breath. "There is something else. The Eldest has escaped. We have the other Elders confined, but we were not able to locate the Eldest. So he may yet act against us in some manner."

"Together, then, we will prepare. Come, enough time has been wasted." Areti tugged at his student until S'arelmari towered over him once more. "We cannot begin to build our future too soon."

-==OOO==-

The days that followed were torturous. S'arelmari had greatly understated the unrest and distrust amongst the people of Lemuria, and the level of violence required to control them. Areti believed that their allies had failed to inform S'arelmari as to their full actions — such was the only explanation for why S'arelmari had been unaware of the number of deaths and severe injuries incurred in the battle in the city. When Areti calculated the final number and reported it to S'arelmari, his student's face had twisted with rage.

"I will speak to our forces," he had said. He had stalked off, and when he returned much later, confirmed to Areti that several of their allies had been removed from their positions.

"I will not have such disloyalty amongst us," he said.

Areti was in full agreement — they could not count as allies those who would kill indiscriminately, especially not against simple farmers and crafters. The deaths were tragic, of course, but could not be undone now. To have such people, willing to kill so easily and lie about it, weakened their strategic position. He didn't know where S'arelmari had sent those guilty of the deception, and he little cared. As long as they could do no more harm — and S'arelmari assured that they could not.

For days, Areti spoke to gathered crowds about the truths the Elders and the Eldest had concealed — the Krateros, the fall of Lemuria that they had all but ensured until S'arelmari and Areti had intervened. He carried some of the texts up from the Diamond chamber to prove his words, and in the face of them, the Elders could only affirm that he spoke correctly. The Elders were pale when he called them before the crowds, guarded closely by grim-faced allies who were a little too heavily armed for Areti's taste, but circumstances demanded it. The first two times he attempted such an open forum, fighting broke out as the crowd attempted to rescue the Elders, and S'arelmari was forced to lead a charge against them, resulting in yet more injuries.

Areti understood the guards to be a deterrent for the good of the people themselves whose loyalty was still to the Elders, and redoubled his efforts to help them understand.

"Perhaps," he said once to S'arelmari, "if you were to return their children in an act of good faith, they would see that we are their protectors, not their conquerors."

"But without such leverage, the violence would only increase again," S'arelmari argued, "and more lives would be lost. Possibly including your own. No, the children are safe where they are, and the people are better protected when they are not able to behave foolishly. I will not risk your safety or my own for no gain."

Areti longed to argue the point, but the near-feral fury he met when he spoke to the crowds had cowed him, and he simply nodded. For all it was vexing to try to teach someone who stood several times his height above, there was a security in S'arelmari's commanding stature and strength, and Areti was grateful to hide in his shadow.

Finally came the day that S'arelmari decided would be the trial of the Elders for their crimes against Lemuria.

"I advise you to remain out of sight," S'arelmari said. "You have spoken to the people many times, and they do not yet trust you, but they respect that you speak what you believe to be true. For them to continue to trust you, I do not want you to be a part of the fall of the old order of things."

Areti felt sure he should object, but he found himself unable to do so. After all, if their goal was to preserve the future of Lemuria, then it was his duty to maintain as much power as possible. Only then could he wield it to guide the future. And S'arelmari had shown himself to be breathtakingly capable at managing perception and power, and had yet to be incorrect about any course of action. So Areti agreed and spent the day of the trial again in the Diamond chamber alone.

"All the Elders have been found guilty of crimes against Lemuria," S'arelmari said when he arrived to summon Areti back from the chamber. "They have been dealt with. However, this leaves me in quite an untenable situation."

"What is that?"

"The trial was successful, but the people are increasingly wary of me. I think they view my strict handling of these matters as a sign of my demonic legacy. They are willing to obey me, but it is out of fear, not trust."

"I will speak to them," Areti offered.

"No, my friend." S'arelmari smiled. "I do not need to convince them. Perhaps in this time of upheaval, such fear can be helpful. If it preserves the peace long enough for the people's hearts to join us, then I will embrace it gladly. But it cannot rule them. They will ever fight the yoke of my power if they fear me. But they would not fight yours."

And that was how Areti became the new Eldest of Lemuria.

With a few of S'arelmari's most trusted lieutenants, Areti established a council, not of Elders, but of allies. They were tasked with observing the peoples of Lemuria and giving him information so that he could decide how to handle matters as they arose. S'arelmari, was, of course, a member of the council, and Areti leaned upon his advice most heavily. He had never intended to be thrust into such power, and as much as it filled the part of him that had yearned to fulfill his Destiny, Areti feared he might not actually be suited to such a role. He was a Teacher, not a hero, not a leader.

"Ah, but is not one who teaches also one who must lead students to truth and insight? And is not the gift of such truth and insight truly an act of heroism?" S'arelmari asked him.

But still, Areti was not comfortable. For all his study and his cleverness, his heart felt cold when he was forced to issue decrees even when they were in the best interest of maintaining the fragile peace that was settling over Lemuria.

If there was any comfort, it was that his role as Eldest took him away from the people and the crowds. Most days he spent with members of his council or S'arelmari, reading reports from outside the city and crafting the wording of decisions. He found it far easier to enact the changes required when he did not need to meet the eyes of the people, eyes that still accused him of treason.

Areti could only hope that, with time, the people would see that he was not their traitor at all. That he was the mechanism by which Lemuria would endure.

For a year, Areti served Lemuria as Eldest, and slowly the tensions eased. The people stopped reacting with force to every change he enacted, and S'arelmari was able to recruit many more allies to join his forces who continued to maintain the peace. With such visible support for S'arelmari and Areti in the streets and out in the far-flung parts of Lemuria, and without the influence of the Elders, Areti became optimistic that they might yet succeed and preserve Lemuria for all time.

Whenever not working with Areti on the governance of Lemuria, S'arelmari moved ahead with their other plans to prevent the rise of the Krateros. Areti's spell had delayed him, pushed his birth back by thousands of years, but there were many, many forces which would serve him, or would add to his advantage, and these must be mitigated where possible. S'arelmari was determined to stymie the Krateros wherever possible, and thus he disrupted every possible avenue of support as identified by Areti.

After a year of service as Eldest, Areti was no more at ease in his role, but he had at least settled into its discomfort. And so he was more than surprised when S'arelmari pulled him aside after a council meeting.

"I have a task I can entrust only to you, my friend."

"A task?"

"Yes. I dare not go myself, or I fear it will cause too much outrage amongst those still stubbornly refusing to accept the reality of our position. But you could go in secret, and no one the wiser."

"Where would I go, and for what purpose?" Areti asked.

"There is an item which your own research suggests is tightly bound up in the rise of the Krateros, and in his ultimate success, if he were to achieve it. You know of what I speak."

"Yes. Some sort of cosmic key." Areti frowned. "In all my seeking, however, I have found very little about it, let alone what it is or where to find it."

"I believe that was deliberate upon the part of the treacherous Eldest. For no matter the moves we make, the Krateros could still rise with the power to destroy us all as long as he holds that item at the correct moment. Everything I have done will help us, but none of it will be enough if he gains the cosmic key in time. But, if we were to find it for ourselves, his power would be vastly overwhelmed by our own."

Areti nodded. While the plan remained to remove the threat of the Krateros long before he could ever threaten them, he was still not entirely comfortable with the idea of killing an infant. And there was always the chance that the powers of the Krateros would be enough even at birth to protect him from them — after all, the Krateros's Destiny was stronger even than Areti's own. If he should escape them as a child, holding such an item at the height of his power could be their undoing. Indeed, it would be better if they possessed the item themselves, regardless of whether or not they could remove the Krateros in fifteen thousand years.

"I see. Then you wish me to find the object?"

"Precisely. You can go where I cannot, and you alone can be entrusted with this task, my friend." S'arelmari smiled. "Find it, and the Krateros shall have no recourse. Even if he escapes us at his birth, he will be weakened and vulnerable when we eventually face him."

"Very well. I shall begin at once."

"I suggest you start in Devokan," S'arelmari said. "It is remote enough and well-guarded enough that our influence has not yet reached it. While the people there may yet be loyal to the Elders and the previous Eldest, they might also therefore welcome you as a friend escaped from us and seeking refuge."

"A ruse. I see." Areti nodded. "And Devokan is the resting place of other treasures, so such an item might well be there. It is certainly not here, or we would have encountered it long before now."

"My thinking as well." S'arelmari held out a hand. "Gather whatever supplies you require. I will fulfill your role with the council until you return. I am counting upon you, my friend."

"Have no fear, S'arelmari. For the sake of Lemuria, I shall not fail."

And thus it was that, a few days later, Areti left the city in a set of plain red robes, hood hiding his features from any who might see him pass by. The journey to Devokan would be long, for the hidden city was deep within the tallest mountain range on the planet many days to the north, and every path to it was concealed against intruders. But the knowledge the city held was invaluable, and would surely offer even more Wisdom to Areti, Wisdom he could use to better the future of Lemuria.

It was these thoughts that circled in his mind as he followed the road out of the city, and so distracting were they that he had no sense of his surroundings until it was too late.

There was a burst of sound like a thunderclap, and suddenly a whirling vortex appeared before him. Areti stumbled to a halt, turning when he heard a step behind him.

A figure shrouded in shadow stood behind him, one long arm already outstretched.

Areti could only cry out in horror as he was shoved into the portal and carried away.

-==OOO==-

Amidst the recollections, Max's heart was breaking.

_Virg, how dumb could you be? I know Skullmaster is smart, but you've got to be more aware than this! How do you not notice someone committing genocide right under your nose? And stealing the kids to hold them hostage — how could you possibly think that was okay?_

But he knew, because he had seen it.

_You were so caught up in believing you were saving Lemuria, that it was your destiny and his to be heroes, that you got a big fat blind spot to everything else. Kind of like how you forgot that I was just a kid and couldn't take out Boneface in one swing the first time we met._

_You've always known practically everything, but when you miss something, you really miss it by a mile, Virg._

And then -

_It feels like you're about to find out the truth. That you've been helping him kill your own people, torture them, beat them into submission. And, probably, that it was all for the wrong thing._

_How did you even survive that much guilt?_

_And what if you didn't?_


	9. The Light is Dim

Areti tumbled helplessly through the strange vortex, the conduit around him crackling and heaving with energy. His small gifts of magic were nothing to the pure, elemental force that surrounded him, and he was lost within it.

But it ended as abruptly as it had begun, and Areti fell into open air. He had just enough time to feel chilled before he landed in a deep pile of snow which covered the landscape.

Areti was partially buried and mostly upside-down, and his heavy pack of supplies made it difficult for him to reorient himself. Struggling and flailing, he felt his feet kicking at nothingness while he clawed at the snow around his face. It melted upon contact with him, and then abruptly re-froze, leaving him with icicles forming on every feather while he got wet to the skin. And beyond all of these catalogued facts, he was deeply, profoundly afraid.

However, a few moments later, a hand wrapped around his belt and hauled him bodily out of the snow, hefting him high in the air. Areti twisted to try to see who was there, but a cloak and hood masked the face, and he was swinging too much to see clearly. The only obvious sight was that of the glacier that stretched in every direction endlessly, illuminated only by the full moon in the sky.

"Let me go!" he cried. "How dare you? Who are you and how have you brought me here?"

"You have two choices," returned a voice that was tantalizingly familiar. "You may follow me to shelter where you can get warm and dry, and you will not be harmed, but you must agree to listen to all I say."

"That is one choice. What is the other?" Areti asked, trying to sound like the commanding Eldest he was and not the frightened fowl he hid away.

"I leave you here. Perhaps you make your way on your own, perhaps you do not. But your chances of survival would be effectively insurmountable."

Areti's mind whirled on the calculations and quickly he concluded that his abductor was correct — left without shelter, he would become hypothermic in minutes, dead soon thereafter. And as he was both unequipped to deal with these conditions and untrained into any sort of survival techniques that might mitigate them, he truly had one option if he wished to survive.

"Very well. Then I accept your offer and agree to listen to you if you promise to keep your word as well."

"Done. Follow me."

Areti squawked as he was dropped. He shoved his way back to his feet, having to run and leap over drifts and icy outcroppings to keep up with the much taller figure. The pack also slowed him considerably, but he did not dare leave it behind.

He was shivering badly, almost to the point of not shivering at all, by the time the figure paused at a break in the glacier — a cave. Areti was grateful to be out of the wind, but the air was no warmer and he continued to shake, his beak clacking and rattling with cold. After a few twists and turns in the near-total darkness, however, the tall figure finally stopped long enough to light a ready fire pit.

Areti drew close to the flames on instinct, scarcely aware of his pack and his wet robes being taken from him. He was wrapped in a thick blanket — woven and stuffed with fur, if he were required to guess — and the icicles on his head and hands were removed with surprising gentleness. A cup of something heated at the fire was thrust into his hands and he drank deeply of a floral, nutty tea that heated him to his core.

Finally, Areti blinked, his mind fully recovered and his body no longer so violently, distractingly cold.

"Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

"The first time you asked, you wanted to know not why, but how," the other said. "Perceptive of you, but I expected no less."

Lit by the fire, Areti's abductor threw back his hood and let the cloak slide from his shoulders, revealing the former Eldest of Lemuria.

Areti almost dropped his tea in surprise, then very nearly again when he truly took in the man's appearance.

The Eldest had always been of a stature unusual even in Lemuria, tall and broad, with keen eyes and a square, strong jaw. Unlike Areti who was of a fowl lineage, his form was effectively human — though disproportionately large. His hands were brown and had always seemed roughened more than the other Elders; when asked, the Eldest would always smile and speak fondly of gardens and the work to make new life grow. His hair, raven black, had been long, tied in an elaborate plait that none had ever seen unbound in all the years of Lemuria.

Now, he seemed a shadow of his former self, a thin shade. Still tall, his limbs were nearly skeletal, bony and weakened. His hands were swollen and chapped with cold as was all the rest of his skin, and his eyes seemed sunken into his face. His hair was shorn unevenly at the shoulders, its proud plait long gone. He wore scraps of clothing, some of which might have been similar to the robes he wore in Lemuria, but faded and patched and layered with furs and leathers stitched together haphazardly.

And his eyes were darkened with grief so profound Areti could not fathom its depths.

The only outward similarity between this person who stood before Areti now and the Eldest he had last seen in the shadow of the Arcana's podium was a small medallion hanging on his chest. Areti had rarely bothered to take notice of it before — it having no obvious significance or markings that suggested great meaning — but it had always been present. Now, the red amulet seemed almost otherworldly compared to the wreck of a man wearing it.

"Before I say anything else, Areti, I say this and I beg you to remember it: what must be, will be. That is the way of prophecy, the way that Lemuria has followed since its founding. Destiny has led us all upon a path as undeviating as the SunSoul in the sky, and there is not one of us who could interrupt such a journey."

He paused for a moment, then let out a breath.

"And for this, know that I am endlessly sorry."

Areti cleared his throat with difficulty. "You...you betrayed Lemuria." The accusation gave him strength and his next words came more easily. "You were guiding us all to destruction, to our deaths, to the end of Lemuria and its obliteration from the world forever! But we found a way to stop you. It was not so impossible a path to disrupt once we knew the truth."

"Ah. Truth." The Eldest sat across the fire from Areti. "Truth is tricky, young Teacher. For Truth depends upon the facts, but it also depends upon the context of those facts. This chamber is still quite cold — that is a Truth. But you are warm here, when you were not outside. Truth is not so immutable as it seems."

Areti sneered. "Do not pretend your aims were at all justified. There can be no defense to allowing, even encouraging the Krateros to rise, knowing the destruction he will bring."

"All things end, Areti. Lives, civilizations, even the SunSoul itself will one day burn out. There are some things which may last forever, but even they will do so in a form unrecognizable to how they began. Look at me. I have lived longer even than Lemuria itself. And yet, I am not the man I was before its founding, nor since its fall."

"Lemuria has not fallen!" Areti found himself shouting. "We have preserved it!"

"No." The word was not said sharply, but resoundingly, echoingly slow and deep. Like a bell tolling in the distance. "You have engineered its end."

Areti was struck not just by the words or their tone, but by the guilt and sorrow in the man before him, and could not speak.

"You were indeed the one spoken of in the Four Thousand Epos, one whose teaching would form the future of all Lemuria, one to be remembered and honored. But when you entered the Diamond chamber, did you notice that there was no more information regarding your own Destiny in the version you found there? For all the hidden knowledge of the Krateros, did you not wonder at the lack of any regarding yourself?"

"I…"

"Or, did you even consider that, perhaps, there was some knowledge you were meant to find, and some you were not?"

Areti's beak moved, but no sound emerged.

"In attempting to thwart your own Destiny and that of Lemuria, to prevent its destruction and your death at the hands of the Krateros, you have unwittingly ensured both. And such was always meant to be your path, Areti. Such is your gift, and your Destiny."

"My...gift?"

"Every person has a gift, and in that gift lies their Destiny. You, Areti, are a Teacher. To teach is to require both deep and profound knowledge, and deep and profound trust. You must impart Wisdom and Truth, so you must comprehend both beyond your student. But you must also have faith that what your student learns is what you intend for them to learn. You must be able to share your knowledge, and know that your student will use it wisely."

He met Areti's eyes unblinkingly.

"Your gift in teaching is your grasp of knowledge, which will only grow, and your ability to impart it. But what you have yet to learn is how to judge which students are worthy of trust. This is something you were never meant to learn before today — but you must learn it now."

"I don't understand."

"S'arelmari is demonspawn, you knew this. Your defense of him in spite of his bloodline has been admirable, but unfortunately, in error. Before S'arelmari ever entered Lemuria, he had already given his true allegiance to another master. One whose name you know, but that we never speak."

Areti fought the bile that rose in his throat with anger. "Impossible! He was merely a child!"

"His apparent age was a bargain between him and his master. He is not as old as I, but he is many hundreds of years old. In order to gain dominion over this world and, in turn, this dimension, his master gave him the power to disguise himself so that he could appear to be harmless to gain our sympathy. And he has played his part perfectly at every turn for every moment you have known him."

"I don't believe it! I won't!"

"You must, Areti." The Eldest's voice was sharp. "For S'arelmari even now seeks an evil which could rewrite the very cosmos, past and future, for every life in the universe."

Areti thought of the cosmic key he was seeking, but said nothing. That nothing was enough for the Eldest, however.

"It is not what you assume. The item S'arelmari has sent you to find is a part of his plan, but it was also meant as distraction. For a year, he has made small moves, carefully hidden, working alongside those who are also of an evil mind — and he has kept it from you because his choices were subtle. Now that you have left the city, however, he moves openly, his evil on full display."

The Eldest rose from his place across the fire and crossed to Areti.

"Come. I will show you the truth of your student. Then you will better hear all I have to say."

Areti wanted to refuse. He wanted to shout about S'arelmari who was his friend, who had supported him when he was afraid, who was leading their people to a glorious future without fear of destruction. He wanted to declare that all the Eldest had said was heresy, impossible, beyond thinking. He wanted to resist, to return to the quest S'arelmari had given him and give his student the chance to capture the elusive, traitorous Eldest.

But something deep inside his heart held him still.

Something beyond his thoughts, his intentions, his will.

Some part of Areti's soul washed over his mind and seized him like an instinctive flinch, and he found himself nodding.

The instant he made his agreement to let the Eldest prove his words, Areti realized that he had already lost something precious that he would never recover.

Wrapped in the blankets given by the Eldest, Areti followed the man back out onto the glacier. The air was frigid, but it was nothing to the cold of dread that was growing in his chest every moment.

What if the Eldest was telling the truth?

And, if so, _what had he done?_

Some distance later, another bright swirl of magic burst into the air. This time Areti was beside the Eldest, so he could see that it was born from the red medallion the man wore. In all his study, he had never heard anything about such an item, or the power it appeared to contain. His curiosity was enough that he entered the vortex without hesitation, the Eldest a step behind.

They emerged into an open grassland, startling a flock of small birds into taking flight.

"How have we come here? What is this power?" Areti asked. "How is such possible?"

"I will tell you all I know of it when the time comes," was the only answer he received.

They walked again for a greater distance, then entering another magical conduit which deposited them on a rocky hillside. Then another to a thick, humid jungle. And, at last, they stood upon a familiar road, now facing the city from which Areti had departed not so long before.

The Eldest reached down and grasped Areti's hand — at the moment of contact, Areti felt a flash of cold run through him.

"We will now be imperceptible to anyone I do not wish to be aware of us," he said.

Areti remembered a page with a similar spell in the Arcana, and he blinked. "Did you write the Arcana?" he blurted out.

The Eldest gave a sad smile. "You could say that the contents of the Arcana wrote _me_ instead."

Not sure how to understand that, Areti could only nod.

"Now. Let us see whose sight is clearest — yours or mine. Destiny can be changed, but only by those with the power to do so. It is written that neither of us has that power; let us see if Destiny concurs."

What they saw as they walked into the shining city would haunt Areti's dreams for thousands of years to come.

There was no atrocity imaginable that was not evident through their walk into the city. Death, pain, suffering, humiliation, torture, despair, and degredation haunted every step. The people of Lemuria who lived, and those were few, seemed barely able to cling to each breath as they endured their horrors.

"How...did I not know?" Areti managed to whisper.

"Because S'arelmari did not wish you to know," the Eldest said. "He needed you to help him, for you have gifts which he does not — and I do not mean your capacity for compassion. He is an effective tool for his master, and he has an acceptable grasp of tactics for individual conflicts. But his ability to think more strategically, or to employ subtlety, is far less than your own. He could have rampaged throughout the city without help, but he could not control it for so long."

Areti was certain that his heart could bear no more, and at every turn he was forced to bear it anyway. As they continued into the city's center, where he had spent all his time in the last year, that which had been familiar now appeared more sinister. The building where the children taken during the original conflict were kept was eerily silent — and Areti realized he had not once even visited to ensure their care was sufficient. The people he had seen every day he now realized must have looked at him with terror and loathing, but never where he could recognize it for fear of reprisals. The members of his council were not helpful advocates for the people, but puppets who delighted in spreading panic and pain as much as the one who had engineered all this.

"Please. Enough," Areti begged at last. "I can't…"

"You must," the Eldest said. "For there is one last act you must witness. It is not merely your Destiny, but it is your responsibility to do so. Your part in this was planned for you, but your choices will define the future of the very universe, and so you must understand."

Areti had rarely heard such steel in the Eldest's voice, and he could only follow.

The Eldest led him into the library, and to the Diamond chamber. Guards were forcing citizens onto the pedestal that descended into the hidden room, and they followed.

S'arelmari had set up a dais for himself, the Arcana open before him. The room was filled with people, thin and terrified and hopeless.

"Greetings!" S'arelmari called, and Areti shivered at the cold menace in the voice he had once found so friendly and comforting. "I thank you for your sacrifice today. With what I take from you, I will take this world and soon every galaxy above. Rejoice for your part in my glorious triumph!"

The working that followed was brutal and surpassed everything Areti had seen outside in every manner of cruelty and agony. More than once, he hid his face against the Eldest like a child in their mother's skirts, only for the Eldest to pat him on the shoulder and make him turn back to watch once more.

When it was over, one hundred people were finally dead, and their bodies were unmade. Their blood and bones and skin — along with their fear and suffering — coalesced in S'arelmari's hands into a glowing shape.

"And now," S'arelmari said, holding aloft a crystal that glowed with a sinister light, "once Areti returns with the item I seek, nothing will prevent me from claiming this entire plane of existence for my own!"

Pressure rushed into Areti's chest and overwhelmed him and the world around him went dark.

-==OOO==-

Areti returned to consciousness slowly.

His first sensation was pain and guilt and sorrow.

His second was confusion.

"What…?"

"I have placed a block into your mind," the Eldest said from nearby. Areti turned to look at him, noticing that they were in a different forest than that outside the city. "The details of all you have seen are still a part of your memory, but they will filter back to your consciousness slowly over the course of the next few years. For now, it is necessary that you be able to think clearly — there will be time to mourn and grieve later."

Areti pulled himself to a sitting position. He was grateful that his pain had been mitigated, but that also told him that the need for his focus was great.

"What can I do now?"

"What do you wish, Areti?" the Eldest asked. "Will you fight? Resist the evil of your student and attempt to atone for your part in all this? Or do you lack the courage to continue?"

The question was harsh and it made Areti flinch. His voice shook as he answered.

"I have never considered myself to be one with great courage. I have never truly wished to be a hero. But I...I cannot sit by and do nothing while this happens. Not just because of the role I played in bringing it about. It is...it is wrong to look away from evil."

"Good." The Eldest nodded. "I hoped you would say something like that. For you do have courage, young Teacher. But, more importantly, you have the ability to endure. Patience and resilience will be necessary for you on your path forward into your true Destiny."

"My true Destiny?"

"S'arelmari is the greatest threat this world has ever and will ever know that does not come from another world entirely — his master would be a far greater one. The Krateros, who shall also be known as the Mighty One, is the only being who can defeat him. Others may delay him, or resist him, but only the Krateros can truly destroy him."

"But…"

"Yes. It is still written that you will die when S'arelmari dies as well. There is nothing about that I can change. It is not within my power to rewrite Destiny. You must accept this, Areti."

Areti swallowed but said nothing.

"Your actions with the Moon power of the Arcana one year ago ensured that the Krateros will be born in fifteen thousand years. Until then, you are charged with three tasks:

"First, you must prepare the world for his rise. There will be many pieces to set into motion to ensure that the Krateros has the best possible chance to defeat S'arelmari, and it will fall to you to see them all true. Be warned — at times you must let evil occur, to ensure that later good is stronger still.

"Second, you will need to find the one who shall become the Guardian of the Mighty One. He will be born in five thousand years, and he will earn for himself an additional ten thousand years of life. Halfway through that, and you shall know when, you must find him and begin to prepare him for his own role. Just as you must guide and teach the Krateros, the Guardian will protect him so that he lives to see his final confrontation with S'arelmari — to say nothing of all the other evils only he can vanquish.

"And, finally, to you will fall the sacred duty to protect the item S'arelmari himself sent you to find. That which shall be known as the Cosmic Cap is a necessary power the Krateros will use in his battles against evil. You must not allow it to fall into S'arelmari's hands."

Areti found his voice. "How will I know when and how to do all of this?"

"When we are finished here, go to the city of Devokan as you planned. I have left you everything you will need to know to prepare you for the day you will summon the Mighty One to his own Destiny. The path will not be easy, and you will have little rest, but if you follow what has been written and allow your Destiny to guide you, you will succeed and the Krateros will arise with the strength to save the world from S'arelmari."

"Then why do the passages in the Four Thousand Epos say that the Krateros will bring about the destruction of Lemuria?"

"Because Lemuria has already fallen," the Eldest said sadly. "Before this day is over, Areti, only you and S'arelmari will be left. All the rest of us will be gone. And, someday, when the Krateros fulfills his own Destiny, you and S'arelmari will also die, and the last of Lemuria with you."

Areti forced down his grief. "Today?"

"Today," the Eldest affirmed. "We have one more task together, and then I shall leave you to your Destiny."

"Eldest...are you…?"

"I have lived many thousands of years, Areti. I have seen suffering and pain. I have presided over the rise and destruction of our blessed Lemuria. I am no less than eager for my chance to act one last time for the sake of all that is good, and to clear the way for you and the Mighty One."

Areti shut his eyes, not bothering to wipe away the tears that gathered and fell. He took several deep breaths until he stopped shaking.

"What must we do?"

"We will return to the city. You must retrieve the Arcana and escape with it and the Cosmic Cap. Take them to Devokan, and allow your Destiny to lead you."

"And what will you do?"

"I will save those in the city who can be saved and send them to their own Destinies. The peoples who descend from them will create their own powers which will be needed one day. Then I shall strike against S'arelmari with all my strength. It will not kill him, but the blow will be enough to prevent him from gaining more power for a time."

"And Lemuria?"

"When I die, so too shall the city itself. Our very land will sink beneath the ocean never to be recovered. We will become merely a myth, forgotten by all who remain."

Areti wanted to hide his face in his hands and weep. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn away and never face any of these truths again. He wanted never to have been born to have wrought so much harm in his short life.

The Eldest laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"This burden is one very few could carry without descending into madness. Know that I have watched you all your days, and I have faith in your ability to play the part Destiny has written for you. You will stumble and falter, your heart will break, but you will succeed. It is written that your Krateros shall be victorious, and he would not be were you unequal to this responsibility. Trust in that. Trust in the Mighty One. Trust that his power and courage will uphold every sacrifice made for him."

Areti could only nod. But he committed every word to memory, already all too certain he would need them to hold him steady and strong in the long years to come.

The Eldest lifted the red medallion from his chest and hung it around Areti's neck.

"This is the Cosmic Cap, or will be once I have died. There is much you must know about it, and we have a very busy day ahead of us, so let us waste no time. You have a blank scroll in that pack you carry, yes?"

"Of course."

"Good. I haven't time to teach you this by rote, so allow me to dictate to you a map…"

-==OOO==-

After their preparations, the pair crept back into the city, just as the SunSoul was beginning to set. The Eldest and Areti made their way to where S'arelmari kept the Arcana, still in its place of honor as if Areti had never lifted it a year ago.

The map of portals showed that there was a portal in this very room that would lead Areti to safety, and from there he could navigate them to the city of Devokan.

Yet he froze as he lifted the Arcana down, his heart full of too many things to say.

The Eldest regarded him almost fondly.

"Do not mourn me, young Teacher. I accepted this Destiny long ago. I have earned my rest."

"Yes, but, Eldest…"

And to his surprise, he was pulled into an embrace.

"When the Cosmic Cap transforms, Areti, you will be Eldest in truth, no longer and never again the puppet of evil. The last of Lemuria, and its greatest hope. For in you lies the only path to victory for the Mighty One, and thus, the safety of every life in the universe for all time."

"I…"

The Eldest released him and faced him.

"It is tradition, just as you stood to center for the Right of Naming, that upon becoming an Elder one gives up one's previous name and receives another. There has never been another Eldest, and so if you would do me this one last honor, I would give you my name to carry you into eternity."

Areti could only nod.

"Then, by my power and duty as first Eldest, I commit my final act. As it is written, as Destiny has proclaimed, this Teacher is now and forevermore the last Eldest of Lemuria. And, with my blessing, let this Teacher be Named...Virgil."


	10. Held in Chains But Now I'm Free

Max came back to himself with two sets of supporting arms around him.

He blinked, his throat aching as if he had been screaming, and that _still didn't make any sense, he was in his head, why?_ But he was immediately distracted from that by the fact that Virgil and Morgan were apparently cooperating. Virgil's arms were braced around his waist, and he had one hand tangled in his robes, and Morgan was bearing his weight against her side with her own arms looped over his shoulders.

"Virg? Morg?"

"Mighty One!" Somehow, Virgil managed to sound relieved, concerned, and extremely tenuous all at once. "Are you…?"

"Breathe, Chosen One," Morgan said. "You have been through far more than your share."

"I asked for it, though," he said. "And Virg went through it, too, so…"

She scowled, and that made Max want to laugh.

"Is it weird that everything is the same, after being someplace else for, like, a year? I mean, talk about situational whiplash."

At that, Morgan stiffened. "Chosen One, I…"

"I know, you're dulling it again. I get it, though. I appreciate the breather, but lay it on me. Let's rip this Band-Aid off already."

Morgan nodded, and Max's heart became awash in pain and guilt and revulsion and not a little reawakened trauma. He started to tremble, and it was only the combined pair of arms that held him upright.

Max considered trying to shake it off.

Thought about the face Peter would make if he tried doing any such thing.

And gave into the need to have a full blown panic attack.

-==OOO==-

Virgil had seen this before, but judging from Morgan le Fay's expression as the Mighty One descended into hysterical crying, eyes unseeing, muttering words to himself that made little sense, she had not.

"It's going to be all right," Virgil found himself saying to both of them. "He is overwhelmed. Let him process the worst of it now, and we will see to him when it is over."

Morgan opened her mouth and Virgil interrupted, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

"Don't interfere. He must be allowed to feel it in order to cope with it. If you mute his emotions, they will only return with greater force later. He cannot endure suppressing this much pain — it would tear him apart."

Morgan nodded, but her smooth face was tense. Virgil decided to count that as a victory — at least she was listening to him.

"I knew your experience was upsetting, but I suppose I did not consider…"

"That my history might resonate badly with his own?" Virgil sniffed with disdain. "Which of us can be accused of hurting him, then? I concealed this truth _precisely_ because I did not wish to burden him with it. Because he would grieve, and he has grieved enough. And now you have thrown it into his face. The least you can do is help me deal with it."

"How?"

Virgil chose not to comment on how small and contrite her voice sounded.

"Let us sit him down." The Mighty One was becoming rather heavy in their arms as he gasped and sobbed. "It would be better if we were not in his mind where we could wrap him in blankets or offer him water, but for now this will do."

Morgan ended up sitting in the position of a backrest, arms looped around the Mighty One's chest as he rocked back and forth against her. Virgil knelt in front, holding the Mighty One's hands and periodically wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

Time had little meaning while they comforted the boy between them, answering him softly when he managed to stutter questions and reassuring him when his eyes were sharp enough to see them. Eventually, his breathing slowed and his tears began to dry.

Finally he hauled in a deep gulp of air. He released Virgil's hands to squeeze Morgan's where she held him. Then he tipped forward and rested his forehead on Virgil's shoulder, the Cap shifting aside to accommodate him. Virgil glanced at Morgan, then wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders. For a long moment, he just breathed, holding them both.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I know you don't need me to say sorry, but I am. So thanks."

"Of course, Mighty One," Virgil whispered back.

"Chosen One…" Morgan began.

The Mighty One finally lifted his head and turned so he could face her.

"Thank you for showing me," he said.

"I didn't...it was…"

"I'd rather know. I'll take this stuff any day if it means I get to know the truth. I can...it's easier to feel the hurt than to be scared of not knowing."

Virgil sucked in a breath that ached.

"Even though…?" Morgan asked, and all at once Virgil remembered how young she was — she could not have been more than a few years older than the Mighty One when Merlin sealed her away. And his heart ached again.

"Even though," the Mighty One said. "Don't sweat it, Morg. But if Peter wants to talk to you when I go see him, you better be okay with that. Or I won't eat any ice cream for a month."

Virgil managed to smile at his boy's recovery, and he could see the beginnings of one in Morgan's eyes as well.

_Perhaps_ , Virgil thought, _we can make a peace between us after all._

-==OOO==-

Max felt like he had been run over by an aircraft carrier and then shoved through some kind of cheese grater, but for all that, he felt oddly better.

"So, basically," he said, "Skullmaster was as bad to you as he was to me."

"Mighty One, no," Virgil protested at once. "He never harmed me. Never so much as raised a hand against me. His crimes against Lemuria were catastrophically greater than anything he could have done to me."

"But, that's kinda the point," Max said. "You would rather he tore you apart than let him do what he did to Lemuria and all those people." He couldn't not shiver, but it didn't overwhelm his control.

"Yes," Virgil said, ducking his head. "Yes, I would."

"So it's the same. Because he was going to do that in Toyama, but he played with me instead. And now that I've seen both sides, honestly, watching him do that stuff was a lot harder." He made a smile that must have been pretty ugly from the way Virgil's eyebrows went up. "At least pain heals. Memory and guilt is a lot worse."

While he let Virgil chew on that, he turned to Morgan, scooting out of her lap — which wasn't weird, since she'd been in his head so boundaries were all kinds of strange already — and adjusting so he could sit facing them both at the same time.

"You were right that Virgil lied to me. He didn't tell me any of that stuff about Lemuria or Skullmaster or how it all went down. But I get it. If not for Toyama, I think he _would_ have told me. He didn't want to hurt me again. He didn't want me to have to think that more deaths were my fault."

"They're not — " she began.

" _They are_ ," he said, knowing it was true with all his heart. "Apparently it was _written_ ," and boy did he ever hate that phrase now, seriously, "that all of Lemuria had to be sacrificed for me. That the only way to line up the pieces that would dump Skullmaster into the center of the earth was to let him win for a little while. So, in order to keep him from getting the Cap, to keep him from getting more power, he had to fight with the Eldest. Everything happened to maneuver him into position for Maximus to put him on ice. And for me to get born so I could put a more permanent fix in."

He drew in a deep breath.

"Lemuria and everyone in it died as part of setting this all up. They died for me."

"Mighty One…" Virgil began.

"I didn't see anything after you left for Devokan. What happened?"

Virgil sighed, but nodded, understanding that Max wanted answers more than sympathy.

"The Eldest entered into a great battle with S'arel...with Skullmaster." He twitched. "Their powers rocked the very stones of Lemuria, toppling buildings and cracking the earth. Those who survived fled, running for higher ground as the sea began to consume the city. When the Eldest died, the foundations under the landmass that had been Lemuria shattered."

He paused, collecting himself.

"No one knew until then that it was the power of the Eldest that birthed our continent in the first place. The writings in Devokan made it clear that Lemuria was never intended to survive him except through me."

"Virg…"

"The survivors spread out across the world. A few became the Ancient Clan, those who are tied to your friends in Japan. Others founded the order of monks who still guard the secrets of Devokan in the Himalayas. Still others settled on what we know as Dragon Island and became Tamoori's people. Lemuria was forgotten."

"And Skullmaster?"

"Escaped the destruction as he was intended to, but greatly weakened. The Eldest broke his connection with many of the powers he inherited from his evil master, and even the Crystal of Souls could not restore them. He spent several thousand years building up more power and influence, taking the lessons of Lemuria and using them to create a new civilization he could control."

Max nodded. "Atlantis."

"Correct." Virgil's eyes quirked, pleased he had figured it out. "He needed the resources he could get from an advanced people, and the ability to use them for his evil without having to control them directly. He learned that guile was even more effective than fear at getting what he wanted while his power regrew. When he was at last ready, he triggered the destruction of Atlantis, took their souls, and began his assault upon the world with his army."

"What about that master of his?" Max wanted to know.

"The Evil One." Virgil failed to suppress a shiver. "A being from another dimension, powerful beyond the telling of it. However, there is nothing written which says that you need ever worry about him. He may be impossible to defeat, but for as long as you are alive, Mighty One, he ought not ever threaten this dimension directly."

"That's...not as encouraging as you think, Virg."

Virgil could only shrug.

Max returned his focus to Morgan.

"So, the point is that Virgil did lie to me. He kept stuff from me that I did have a right to know. But he did it because he didn't want to hurt me. Not because he was manipulating me."

"He did it to protect himself," Morgan said, scowling.

"That, too," Max acknowledged. "But...I mean, can you really blame him? Virg got taken for a ride by Skullmaster in the worst possible way. He...he was playing a game with rules nobody told him, trying to win a fight that was never going to be fair. He was…"

Max broke off, insight striking like lightning.

"Virgil was just like me."

They both objected at once.

"Mighty One, I — "

"Chosen One, that — "

Max silenced them both with a gesture and a glare.

"Fifteen thousand years ago, Virgil was a normal Teacher. All he ever wanted was to Teach."

"I also believed in my arrogance that I had a Destiny to rival your own," Virgil put in. Max glared harder and the Lemurian fell silent.

"Okay, so the circumstances aren't identical. But fundamentally, it was the same. Virg got chosen to do some stuff he didn't necessarily sign on for. Somebody — the Eldest, I guess — set up this whole thing without any kind of consent by anybody involved. Just like how I got pulled into this mess in the first place. And it was just as overwhelming for him, and he was in over his head, and he made a ton of mistakes along the way — just like me."

Virgil looked pained, and Max gave him a smile.

"It's okay. I'm better with it all now. You know that. And it wasn't ever _your_ fault I got the lucky straw of destiny. It's mainly Skullmaster's fault, because if he weren't out to take over the world, we wouldn't have to do any of it. But after that, everything that happened happened because it was written to happen."

"That _is_ how prophecy works, Mighty One."

"No," Morgan said. "There is a difference between things happening _as_ written and things happening _because_ they are written."

"Right." Max nodded at her, his mind and intuition carrying him to new conclusions. "Your Eldest was trying to do the right thing, but he was using prophecy as a way to control the future. You've told me that destiny is equal parts chance, free will, and fate, right?"

Virgil blinked. "Yes."

"The whole Lemurian perspective is _dependent_ on people using those prophecies to determine their free will. Your people were so tied up by what they were foretold to do, by how it was written to go, that they _made_ it go that way."

Morgan was nodding. "This was my constant struggle with Merlin as well. He believed he could interpret prophecy to guide the future, and thus would make no choices against what he believed was to be." She frowned. "He _also_ weighed the well-being of some far-flung future as more relevant than the lives of people living alongside him."

"The Eldest did that, too," Max said. "He basically threw the entire population of Lemuria and Atlantis under the big prophecy bus, instead of looking for a way around the fate part and letting free will and chance make stuff work out okay."

"But...Mighty One…"

Max turned to Virgil and he could feel warmth bubbling up in his chest. A warmth he knew and welcomed — the warmth of his inborn powers. The warmth of certainty that this was the way to win.

Not because it was written. Because he was making a choice.

"The Eldest told you that it was the Lemurian way, Virg. In that ice cave. That the definition of Lemurian Destiny was to do what was proscribed. Right?"

Virgil could only nod.

"He also told you there were people who could break that destiny. People like me." He smiled at Virg's widening eyes. "I reset time. I saved you and Norman even though it was written that you would die. I changed the game."

"Y-yes, I suppose."

"Which means all that written stuff doesn't have to apply anymore. Lemurian prophecies might tell us what _could_ happen, but they don't have to tell us what's _going to_ happen after I get involved. You even said so when I let Skullmaster out of the center of the Earth. I didn't go _against_ prophecy — I fulfilled it even better."

"I...perhaps…"

"Virg, _I'm_ who the Eldest was talking about. I'm the one who can break Destiny." And suddenly Max's excitement evaporated. "Which means...he was right all along."

"Chosen One?" Morgan asked, concerned at the unexpected solemnity.

"The prophecies said that the Krateros would destroy Lemuria. We thought it was because you and Skullmaster would die, and it would go with you. But that's not what happened."

"No," Virgil said, recovering. "You saved me, and Norman as well."

"But...so, let's say that Skullmaster really doesn't count as part of Lemuria anymore. Because he's not exactly the ideal...anything not evil, I guess." He shrugged. "So it's just you, Virg."

"That is a valid interpretation."

"And for as long as you're following prophecy, you're doing everything you're supposed to do. You're being the perfect Lemurian Eldest. You're still acting like a Lemurian."

Virgil blinked.

"But I break those prophecies, Virg. And...and I want you to start breaking them, too."

Virgil rocked back, breath escaping him in a rush.

Max leaned forward, letting his words come without trying to anticipate them. "We can't keep doing things the way you always did. It doesn't _work_. It's fine if you want to tell me when evil radioactive rabbits are eating the rainforest or something, but when it comes to anything else, all you can be sure of is how it gets _started_. As soon as we get there, whatever was written goes out the window and the Mighty One rewrites the script. That's how it's _supposed_ to be."

"I see," Morgan said softly.

Virgil was still blinking. Max swallowed, but forged ahead.

"Lemuria will live as long as you do, Virg. As long as you're acting like a Lemurian. But if you stop, if you quit letting the prophecies tell you what has to happen and start letting them set you up to make your own choices, then you _won't_ be acting like a Lemurian."

He lowered his eyes.

"And when you stop acting like a Lemurian, that's when Lemuria will truly be gone. Because of me. The Krateros will destroy Lemuria — by giving the last Lemurian his freedom to choose."

Max looked up and tried to smile.

"The same way you gave it to me after Toyama."

Virgil looked pretty shell-shocked, so Max opted to give him some space. He got up and wandered away.

_Not that I can go far. I mean, we're still in my head and there's nothing here. But it's the thought that counts._

"Chosen One?"

"Hey, Morg."

"Are you well?"

"No," he said honestly. "That was awful to see, and I feel a million times worse for Virg who had to live with it all alone for so long. At least when bad stuff happened to me, I had friends and a professional with a psych degree to help me out."

Morgan drew up alongside him. "I still...I cannot abide the choices he has made regarding you, Chosen One. And I do not want him to make them again. It is as you said — he allows the writings by those long dead who know nothing of this world as it is now to define what he can do, and therefore what he will permit you to do."

"Like dragging me away from Norman under the big spider," Max said. "I know. And I think you're right. It isn't the best way to do things. But, I also think maybe that was the only way left for Virg when he lost everything else. Like, the ultimate coping mechanism. The world fell apart around him, literally, so he latched onto a book of rules to keep him going."

"Perhaps. But it does not atone for his mistakes. His willingness to thrust you into danger. His acceptance of collateral damage in the form of lives. His whole people put Merlin to shame in that."

"But that's my point," Max said. "They're gone. We're here now. And if we keep playing by their rules, we're going to lose something I don't want us to lose. I don't want to…"

He wrapped his arms around himself.

"In Toyama, I had to keep my soul out of Skullmaster's Crystal. He killed people because he thought I would sacrifice myself to save them. And I would, but it wouldn't have saved them anyway. He'd have gotten the power to kill them all and so many more. So they died because I let them."

Morgan tucked an arm over his shoulders and he leaned against her gratefully.

"But there's a difference between me making that choice — the only one I could make — and me saying that they _had_ to die in order to ensure victory. Saying they _had_ to die is like being glad of it. It's like 'the ends justify the means' on steroids. And I can't live like that."

"And you do not."

"And now I need Virgil not to, either. He's got to change his whole mindset. And that's not easy. He's been thinking this way for fifteen thousand years. It kept him sane. But that doesn't mean it's _right_."

"It is not." Then Morgan gave a tiny smile. "Merlin would have hated you, too."

"Good to know in case I ever meet him," Max said. Then he turned in Morgan's arm and pulled her into a hug.

"Chosen One?"

"I'm not asking you to forgive Merlin because he stuck you in here and that _stinks_ and I'm going to fix it one day, I _promise_ ," he said. "But I would really, really like it if you would try to forgive Virgil. It's not his fault he was conditioned to be Lemurian and never realized he had another choice. He never meant to hurt me, Morg. He was trying to be my Teacher the best way he knew how — by being Lemurian."

"Yes, but…"

He tightened his arms around her.

"I'm not saying you have to be buddies. Just...he's not Merlin. He's not even the same Virgil I met the first day I got the Cap. He's changed. Let him change. If you still don't like him, then that's fine. But decide you don't like him because you know him, not because you remember him. Okay?"

"I...for you, Chosen One, I will try."

"Great!" He squeezed her hard. "Now, let's hope he's not mad at me for turning his world on its head."

"If he is, I shall use that as my first reason not to like him again."

Max looked up and grinned — Morgan was kidding. She was actually kidding. And hugging him.

_Yep. Maybe there's hope for us all._

-==OOO==-

Norman was trying meditation because he had been starting to wear a trench in the carpet from his constant pacing and he didn't want to face the wrath of the Mighty One's mother when she saw it. Well, at least he was sitting still, with his eyes closed, and he was breathing deeply.

Meditation generally included other things like higher awareness or deep insight, not stewing on worry and intermittent impatience potent enough to choke, so maybe he was doing it wrong.

The very moment the Mighty One's breathing changed, Norman shot to his feet.

It was a good thing, too — Virgil erupted out of the chair like he'd been thrown, and only Norman's reflexes kept him from hitting the ground.

"Virgil! What happened?" Norman steadied his friend, waiting until the fowl could orient himself with his feet down and his head up before he released him.

"He should be coming around any moment," Virgil said.

"Is he okay? Did she hurt him? Is she still…?"

But Max groaned and opened his eyes, sitting up gingerly.

"Ow. Okay, Morg? No more light shows. Whatever that was, it packs a punch."

His eyes went momentarily unfocused as he listened to a reply only he could hear. Then he shook his head.

"How should I know? It's not like there's a how-to of being me, you know. But, since I've never done that before without, you know, latching onto portal energies or end-of-the-world stuff, I don't have a clue."

Virgil sighed. "Another mystery to solve, then."

"Yep, because we needed one," the Mighty One said. Then he turned to Norman. "Hey, big guy. Sorry for scaring you."

"Uh…"

"Morgan says she's sorry, too. She really doesn't hate you as much as she hated Virgil, and she has _promised to work on that_ , so she says she owes you a favor."

Norman looked between Virgil and his boy. "I...have missed something."

"You have missed _a lot_ , Normie," the Mighty One said, "but we'll catch you up. Right, Virg?"

"Right."

Norman raised an eyebrow. Virgil looked downcast, sad in a way he had rarely seen.

"But I have a suggestion," the Mighty One said, climbing out of bed and steadying himself before either of them could reach him. "Or, okay, fine! _Morgan_ has a suggestion."

And apparently this was a thing now, his boy talking to the sorceress in his head.

If Norman hadn't known as much as he did about her, he would have been a lot more upset, actually. He still had concerns, of course. More than a few.

But the boy's smile was his own, honest and true and full of energy and humor and all the light that filled his heart, and that was really all Norman needed for now.

"Let's do this over ice cream."

-==OOO==-

"So, how are you?" Max asked, pulling Virgil aside to the front hall while Norman worked on cleaning up the broken glass in the living room. They would have to replace all the light bulbs before mom got back, because it was one thing to explain he had a fifteen hundred year old girl in his head, and something else to explain he had a fifteen hundred year old girl with a talent for property damage in his head.

They had spent three hours in Max's usual booth at his favorite ice cream shop, catching Norman up on everything and also indulging Morgan's interest in trying tiny samples of every possible flavor. By the end, Norman had eaten five banana splits and three double sundaes, Morgan had decided that fudge cookies and cream was her favorite ice cream, and Max was thinking this was the best post-adventure ritual ever, even considering the topic.

However, while Virgil had added his own parts of the tale, he had been rather quiet otherwise.

"It is...a great deal to take in, Mighty One," Virgil said finally.

Max perched on the bench beside him, trying not to listen to Norman because he needed plausible deniability when Norman broke something else, and swung his legs.

"Tell me about it."

Virgil opened his beak, shut it with a clack, and made a little smile. "I don't need to. You already know."

Max winked. "Exactly."

Virgil sighed. "For what it is worth, I am still sorry, Mighty One. For not telling you. For...for letting all this come to pass. For my part in the tragedy."

"I know," Max said, and he tried to make it sound comforting. "And it's not how either of us would have wanted it to happen, but it did. Even Morgan's sorry, a little, and all we can do now is go forward and do better. Right?"

"I suppose."

Max cleared his throat. "Look. If you...I don't want to put pressure on you. You've considered yourself a Lemurian for fifteen thousand years. If you...if you need to keep that part of your identity, I'm not going to be mad. I just...I wanted to give you the choice."

Virgil nodded. "It is a generosity which I did not even realize I might need, to be honest. There is freedom in allowing the past to truly die and focus only on tomorrow. And...you are correct that there is no one better suited to turning destiny to his advantage than yourself."

Max waited, understanding Virgil had more to say.

"And yet, I am Lemurian. I always will be. But...perhaps there is…"

"Identity is hard, Virg," Max said when his Teacher faltered. His _Teacher_. How had he never realized it before? "It doesn't have to be all one thing. And it doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be, either."

"I am Lemurian by birth," Virgil said finally. "It is my species and my heritage. But...perhaps...no. I am _sure_ it does not need to be my future." And the words seemed to hurt to say, even though Virgil sat up a little straighter after saying them.

"Okay," Max said.

"And so...I guess the Eldest was right, as you said. Because of you, Lemuria can at last rest, not a living force, but a memory, a history for us to learn by rather than a map to follow. Because of you, Lemuria can be at peace, her purpose fulfilled."

Max gulped. "I hope to live up to it, Virg."

"Oh, Mighty One," and Virgil's eyes and words were all care and kindness, "you already have."

Max couldn't have helped it if he'd tried. He reached over and pulled Virgil into a hug. _I should probably hug Norman, too. Hugs for everybody!_

_They certainly do help,_ Morgan said softly.

"So...what do we call you now? If 'Lemurian' isn't quite right anymore?" he asked after a moment.

Virgil stiffened, then shook his head, his eyes filled with too many emotions to name.

"I am Lemurian, and that will do. But, if it makes you uncomfortable, then allow me the privilege of using the designation of what is to be, rather than what has been."

Max raised an eyebrow, and scowled when Morgan cackled in his head, already having guessed whatever Virgil would say and apparently not sharing.

But Virgil smiled.

"Why, it should be perfectly obvious, Mighty One. Norman and I are both, now and forevermore, Kraterians. Those in service of the Krateros, of course."

Max blushed as Norman roared his agreement from the other room and even Morgan was pleased.

_Well. At least it's a way forward._

_And whatever happens tomorrow, I guess this means we're in it together._


End file.
